Death In All Its Many Forms
by Iruka Sensei871
Summary: After the attack on Hogwarts, Snape is chased by the good guys and shunned by the Death Eaters. Harry discovers the truth about the night Dumbledore died. Insane, Dark Harry. Snarky Snape. No yaoi. Snape/OC Harry/Same Oc. No citrus. FINALLY FINISHED.YAY
1. Chapter 1

Death in all it's Many Forms

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Harry Potter. The mighty J. K. Rowling owns it all, and my unworthy pen is humbled by her magnificence.

Chapter 1: Death of a Despot

Over a valley many miles away from Hogwarts, a newly reborn Fawkes fought the storm. He was cold and thoroughly drenched, but his heart told him that one of the few people who had been unquestionably faithful to Dumbledore was near, and that person needed him. Dumbledore was dead, but the bond he had formed with the faithful bird was very much alive. He wouldn't stop serving Dumbledore while those who had been most loyal to him were alive and needed him. He searched the valley carefully - looking for the unknown friend who he felt was ill or injured. In his claws he tightly clutched a book.

ssss

It was the beginning of his last year at Hogwarts, and Harry was distracted - as he often was - plotting with Ron before class. "So who do you think the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is going to be?"

"I'm not sure," Ron muttered. "I'm just glad Defense Against the Dark Arts is being taken seriously by the Ministry again. I've heard we're getting someone top-notch this year."

"I heard she's another retired auror," Hermoine chipped in.

Ron rolled his eyes. "I doubt it. Aurors are too busy hunting down Death-eaters to have time to teach."

At that moment, a tall, thin woman swept past Harry, her long black cloak filling the aisle behind her. Her most striking feature - from the back anyway - was that her hair was long, and somehow bushy and curly at the same time. In fact, it was just like Hermoine's hair, except that Hermoine's hair didn't remind Harry of solid darkness. She gave the overall impression of a large black heron.

She stopped at the desk, shuffled a few papers, stacked a couple of books that were slightly out of order, and turned to the class. There was a collective gasp. For once, Slytherins and Gryffindors felt the same way about something - stunned. The craggy face, the sneer, the long tapered hands, the pale skin, even down to the black intimidating eyes – this was too much!

"Sweet Whomping Willow! She's Snape in a dress without the nose," Harry said much louder than he meant to. She straightened to a full six imperious feet. Harry felt his gut tighten, and half expected to hear the cold sharp tones of the former Professor Snape.

She walked slowly to Harry's desk, placed her hands on it, and leaned down to look Harry in the eye. "Ah, Mr. Potter – starting the year off right are we?" she said quietly. It would have been better if she had shouted like Snape, Harry decided. Her soft voice held vast menace. She sneered. It was Snape's sneer. Harry felt bile in the back of his throat, and swallowed hard. "50 points from Gryffindor for such amazing cheek, and detention, Mr. Potter, for a week." The Gryffindors groaned, and the Slytherins chortled. At least this part of the year was normal.

She walked back to her desk, and turned. She crossed her arms, leaned against her desk, and simply stared for a few uncomfortable moments, scanning the class with her dark eyes. When even the Slytherins were beginning to shuffle and clear their throats to make some sort of noise and break the tension, she began a slow stride across the room, wand in hand. "My name," she said clearly, "is Amelia Irmina Snape." She stopped and looked over the room. She smiled – a real smile this time, not a sneer. "Well, you handled that better than the Hufflepuffs anyway. One actually fainted this morning." Faint nervous laughter filled the room.

Professor Snape's face became serious again. "Now that we have that out of the way, there are going to be a few new rules. There will be no questions about my brother. No, I don't know why he did … what he did. No, I am not a dark witch. And most importantly, I will NOT favor one house above another." Here she stopped pacing and directed a very pointed glance toward the Slytherin side of the classroom. "It may interest you to know that I didn't attend Hogwarts, and the house rivalries here are ridiculous to me. I don't like sneaking and blind ambition,"

She heard muffled laughs from the Gryffindors, and she turned toward them. "I also do not like pubescent adventure-obsessed heroes who get people killed needlessly." Even though she didn't look at Harry, the comment struck home, and a mixture of anger and guilt filled him as the faces of Sirius Black, Dumbledore, and all the others that had died or been hurt while defending him flashed through his mind.

She faced the class and focused on Hermoine. Suddenly her wand was up. "Accio Granger's book." The book flew to her. She held the book up. "This…this is the problem. The Dark Lord lurks in the shadows, ready to kill you at any moment, and you can't even anticipate a simple spell that isn't even a curse." She looked intensely at Hermoine, and said, in that low, menacing voice. "Mrs. Granger. What if that had been an Unforgivable Curse from … He Who Must Not be Named? You would be writhing on the floor right now, or dead, or a slave of his." Hermoine shuddered. Slytherins scoffed at the Gryffindor's discomfort. She turned on them. "I suppose you would do better? You," she pointed randomly, "what are the 5 ways to anticipate an attack?" Silence. "You," she pointed at another. "Explain the conflict between the ways of Zarock and the philosophy of Darquinis. Hmmm … don't know quite as much as you thought, do you? Now then, turn to page 152, and read first chapter about how a wizard's body language betrays his intention to attack. I want a 10-page essay, paying special attention to the movement of the eyes during and before an attack. It's due next Monday." Groans sounded throughout the class. Snape glowered. "Don't take this so lightly. It could very well save your life."

It was a full 3 hours before Harry Potter stormed into the Gryffindor common room, visibly fuming. Ron had fallen asleep in a chair by the fire, and Hermoine was trying to coax a house-elf into taking some of her popcorn. Harry stopped and took in the homey comfort of the scene. He calmed himself and plopped down in a chair near Ron, waking him with a wet willy.

"Hey, sod off!" Ron didn't appreciate Harry's sense of humor. He grumbled a bit and rubbed his eyes. "Blasted house-elf snogging git."

"Hermoine, stop feeding that house-elf. She doesn't want popcorn," Harry said. Hermoine looked indignant.

"Of course she does. Well, I don't know that she wants popcorn specifically, but I'm sure she wants to be treated respectfully and cared for occasionally, don't you?" She turned back to where the house-elf had been, but the elf had taken the opportunity to disappear to a more normal room where odd students didn't try to force popcorn on her.

Ron laughed so much his face turned as red as his hair. Hermoine spluttered and flounced out of the room, curls bouncing. When Ron was able to quit laughing, he turned to Harry. "Well, mate, what did she do? Did you have to clean the floors like a muggle, or did she make you paint the dungeon? Or maybe," Ron laughed, "she just wanted some good Potter lovin', eh? Wouldn't that be great, Potter and Snape?" Now Harry didn't appreciate Ron's sense of humor.

"No, but she lectured me forever, and then she made me clean each of the student desks with a wire brush, and then her desk, and then the floors. She wouldn't let me use any magic. It took forever. I was supposed to do something important tonight. I was going to help Hermoine with training Crookshanks." Harry glared. "Now I'll have to study instead."

"Training that awful cat can wait. You need to study."

"Mmmm … I guess so. It just makes me mad. We just got rid of Snape, and now we have, well, another Snape. I was at least looking forward to having a Snape-free year. It's not as if we have very much to look forward to anymore."

Ron was concerned. He didn't like it when Harry brooded. "Hey, the twins sent me a package. There's probably all sorts of contraband in it. They just came up with something new – pumpkin pasties that make your head turn into a pumpkin. Do you want to go look?"

Harry just grumbled and stared at the fire.

Ron sighed. "C'mon mate. Don't do this to yourself. I know how bad things are, but we can't think about it all the time. It might be a long time until we can get rid of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. It's not going to do anyone any good if you're a nervous wreck when the final battle comes."

Harry started and looked at Ron with a very odd look that made Ron nervous. "What makes you think there will be a last battle? What if this just drags on and on, and more and more people die, until the Ministry does something dumb like try to compromise with Voldemort, or legitimize him somehow? What if our grandkids are sitting here trying to figure out how to kill him? The Ministry didn't stop Umbridge from fouling everything up here. If someone like Umbridge could get in, anything could happen." Harry practically spat her name out.

"This isn't like you, Harry. Where are you getting this? There will be an end to this. There has to be. More and more Death-eaters are being caught every day, and there's a record number of new aurors. Everyone wants to be an auror now - well every graduating Gryffindor at least, and a lot of the braver Ravenclaws."

Harry was quiet for a few moments, and the only noise in the room was the popping sound of the fire, and the steady rain on the roof. "I don't know. I just get so tired sometimes. Too many good people have died, and still nothing really happens. People aren't fighting back; they're just hiding in their houses. He's winning, Ron."

Ron was stunned. "Didn't you hear what I just said about the aurors? Harry, don't talk that way." A sudden suspicion hit him. "When's the last time you slept, anyway? You look awful."

Harry ran his hands through his unruly hair and over his face. He noticed his hair was getting greasy. "I don't know. I just can't sleep after what happened. Every time I try, I just keep thinking that Death-eaters could be here, right now, hurting my friends, and then I have to get my cloak and walk the grounds." He leaned his elbows on his knees and rested his face in his hands.

"C'mon Harry," Ron said quietly. "You couldn't help anyone the way you are right now anyway. Even Dumbledore slept, I'm sure."

Harry muttered something unintelligible and wandered slowly toward the stairs. Ron sighed and stared at the fire. Harry was a good friend, but sometimes he was difficult, and he'd been an absolute pill lately.

Harry didn't like what he saw in the mirror while he was getting ready for bed. He was pale and his eyes were swollen and red. He hoped he could sleep tonight. All he could hope for was one night of decent sleep. One of the many things he hadn't told Ron lately was that the new potions master had made him a potion for Dreamless Sleep, and even that wasn't working.

"Well," he thought, "I'll try again, and if it doesn't work I'll walk the grounds again. At least that way I'll be some use."

Again, for at least the fifth night in a row, Harry had the same dream. He was glued to the wall, and Dumbledore sacrificed himself to save him. Over and over he was forced to relive the moment when he had watched Snape kill one of the few people who had truly loved him. He found himself somehow replacing Snape at the last minute and yelling the death curse. Harry awoke with a jolt, heart racing. He heard rain on the roof and the wind of a storm outside.

_I might have well as killed him_, Harry thought. _He would still be alive if it weren't for me._ Harry rolled over and buried his face in his pillow. He didn't want his roommate to hear him cry.

When he was finished, Harry stared at the ceiling. He felt empty. He had to do something. He sighed. There wasn't anything to do except what he did every night. He quietly snuck to his trunk and removed his invisibility cloak. He couldn't bring Dumbledore back, but he could at least help keep the students safe that Dumbledore had loved so much. It wasn't much, but it was something.

Ssss

Severus Snape woke and was relieved that his dream was just that – a dream. It settled into his sleep-clouded mind slowly that he wasn't in his chambers at Hogwarts. He was lying on a dirt floor in a rotting abandoned barn. He was cold, wet, and more miserable than he'd ever been in his life, which was saying a lot considering how miserable his life had been so far. _It wasn't a dream_, he realized. _It was real. I killed him. This can't be real._

He felt numb. How many times would he have to see himself kill Dumbledore in his dreams, hear him pleading, watch him fall? Once again he went over the entire scene in his mind. Was there anything else he could have done? No. He saw Potter plastered to the wall. He saw Malfoy ready to ruin his own life. And then he heard Dumbledore's voice in his mind. _Kill me Severus. The Death Eaters won't leave until I'm dead. Save my children_.

He hadn't even known Dumbledore could communicate that way. And then that, "Please." How could he deny that? Potter. _Potter isn't worth Albus_, he thought bitterly. _I should have let the little brat die_.

He amused himself for a few moments with the thought of Potter dying instead of Dumbledore, but it really only made him feel worse. He rolled over and tried to get a little warmth from his very dirty cloak. _Blast the Dark Lord_, he thought. He had no place now. The aurors were hunting him, and the Death-eaters wouldn't take him in. The Death-eaters that were still free were becoming paranoid, and didn't want to risk having him in their houses while the aurors were chasing him. _So much for honor among thieves_, he thought.

A thick cough reminded him that he had to find better quarters tomorrow. He was too old for this. He had been feeling feverish, and this wasn't a time he could afford to get sick. He thought as he nodded off that it might have been better if he had been caught after the raid. At least if they had caught him, the aurors would have probably killed him. This was just prolonging the inevitable.

ssss

Harry saw another nightwalker, and followed, more out of boredom than suspicion. She wandered aimlessly around the castle, stopping for a moment to fuss at Peeves for spray painting some foul graffiti on a wall near the dungeon. She stopped outside what had been the former Snape's office and sighed. She lowered the hood of her cloak, and Harry recognized the face of Amelia Snape. He was very glad to be wearing the invisibility cloak right now. She leaned against the opposite wall and stared at the door. Harry heard her quietly mutter, "Oh Severus, what have you gotten yourself into this time?" She looked around her furtively, and bit her lip slightly as if she was thinking. She cast a spell Harry hadn't heard before. "Hmmm … locked, but no protective spells. I wonder why?" She cast a simple unlocking spell on the door and walked in warily.

"Lumos," she said quietly. Harry saw her walk directly toward a pile of papers on Snape's desk. "I wonder if I should? He's a Black Wizard, so I shouldn't care, but he is kin after all." She began to search through the papers. "Bah, it's only student papers. This rubbish won't tell me anything. Let's see." She began to scan the office carefully. "What would he do? He always liked to hide things, at least he did when he was little."

Amelia realized she didn't know her brother very well at all. If they hadn't been separated when she was eight, perhaps she could have stopped him from becoming a Death-eater. It wasn't fair that she had been adopted and he had been left to the mercy of the fates. She stopped looking, and her face made an odd tick. She wiped a couple of tears away. "Silly thing to get sentimental over," she growled. "That annoying prat never was worth much anyway."

Even in the oddly lit room, Harry could see that she was very sad. He actually felt a tinge of regret for spying on her in a private family time, but if there was a way to catch Snape, he had to know. "Who am I kidding?" she said, eyeing a particularly stern picture of Severus in dress robes. "I do care." She turned back to the job at hand. "They would have searched the room already." Harry wondered if she always talked to herself this much. "The aurors would have cast spells to detect magic concealment. He was a creature of habit, and he always liked to hide things. If I'm going to find him, the clues would be here."

Harry felt sad for her and angry at the same time. How could anyone want to help Severus Snape? He wanted to yell at her, to tell her not to throw her own life into the pit that was Severus Snape, but he didn't dare, so he just watched. She ran her hands over the desk and under it, looking for a hiding place. Nothing. She stopped, and her long fingers traced a meaningless pattern on the desk. Harry noticed that she had carefully manicured, long black fingernails, and a delicate onyx bracelet. She wasn't like Snape in every aspect then. She actually did have some class. She came across a picture with a plain brass frame. There was a simple photo of the castle inside, with owls flying around the parapets. As she looked the picture dissolved into one of her and Severus, much younger. They were in formal clothing, and both glared at the camera. She laughed. "That's how I remember you," she sighed. "Do I want to find him?" It was quiet, barely audible even in the silence of the castle. "What would I do with him if I did find him? I can't very well give my only kin over to the aurors, but … a Death-eater. Why did he have to be a Death-eater? I could forgive anything else."

As she was fingering the picture, it faded to white and she heard the unmistakable voice of Severus Snape. "Amelia, since you are hearing this recording, I assume that I am dead, and you are collecting my personal effects. There are things happening that may require my life very soon. My only instructions to you are this; if the Dark Lord comes to you because you are my kin, trust nothing he says. My greatest fear is that he might trick you as he did me. The only person you can trust is Albus Dumbledore. If the Dark Lord approaches you, go to Dumbledore immediately. Don't be afraid of betraying me; Albus knows everything, and still trusts me. I trust him explicitly. Be careful, Sister." The date on the picture was one day before Dumbledore had been killed.

Amelia gasped, partly because of what the picture had said, and partly because she had never heard Severus say half as much at one time in his entire life. He wasn't very social. It was also the closest thing to something nice she'd ever heard him say. The picture returned to the view of the castle, and she slid it into her pocket. It was at least something to remember him by. She had thrown out everything but his books in a fit of anger. The books had been given to the Hogwarts Library.

Harry just wanted out. It had been all he could do not to tear the picture apart the moment he heard Snape's ugly voice. Now his head reeled. He didn't want to think of Snape as human, with a sister that might love him. He wanted, no needed Snape to be a monster. Harry turned to leave just as Professor McGonagall stepped into the doorway in her animagus form. She rose into her human form and removed her wand. "Professor Snape," she said coolly, "surely you know that this area is off limits. Especially for you."

Amelia swirled and stopped when she saw McGonagall's wand raised and ready for action.

"Why especially for me, Headmistress? I am entitled to my brother's things as next of kin, after all. I assume the aurors would have removed anything dangerous." She wondered how much lying McGonagall would put up with.

McGonagall lowered her wand. "Understand this, Professor Snape - the ministry wanted you here, not the faculty. If you give me a reason to have you removed, I will – quickly."

Harry managed to get out before the two women left. He heard McGonagall lock the door and put some very nasty anti-intrusion spells on it.

ssss

The Order of the Phoenix's headquarters had moved to an old house owned by a muggle and rented to Professor McGonagall's muggle cousin He rented the place to her at an unbelievably high rent. It wasn't an ideal situation, but the owner didn't ask questions, and neither did her cousin. Voldemort hated muggles so much he was unlikely to think of a wizard using them in any way, much less working with them. The Order still met, but there wasn't a great deal to do at the moment. There were still a few uprisings of Death-eaters, but not enough to keep the Order busy. There was an uneasy expectancy among the magic world. The general consensus was that they were building up something even worse than the raid at Hogwarts. Many wizards suddenly remembered that they had family overseas that needed immediate visits. Even though there was no official curfew, very few people ventured out at night anymore.

It seemed to Harry that the Dark Lord might win without another shot fired, but if things continued on their current path, he might get an empty kingdom. Harry chuckled. He could just imagine the scene. A victorious Dark Lord stepped into Diagon Alley and proclaimed ownership, only to be embarrassed by the silence. For some reason this amused Harry so much he laughed out loud.

"What's so funny, Harry?" Ron asked. Harry realized he'd been laughing out loud, and blushed.

"Not much, I was just thinking how funny it would be if the Dark Lord wins after all, but all he gets if a bunch of empty real-estate because he scared everyone off. He'd have nothing but a nation full of dead bodies to rule over." He chuckled again, and then noticed the embarrassed silence. A couple of people cleared their throats, and Ron suddenly discovered that his fingernails needed cleaning. "Not cool, Harry," he muttered under his breath.

McGonagall cleared her throat. "If we could get back to business, we have to decide some sort of sentry schedule for the school. We should have surveillance every night if possible." Harry snorted. If only they knew. McGonagall was concerned. Harry had never been what she would call normal, but after Dumbledore's death he had become disturbingly odd. His hygiene was slipping, and he seemed to spend a great deal of time brooding. She would have to speak to Lupin about it later. Harry responded to Lupin fairly well.

After the meeting, Ron pulled Harry aside. "What's wrong with you, Harry?"

Harry was annoyed. "Nothing, Ron. I mean, I only saw people killed that I loved, and watched Snape kill Dumbledore. I can't sleep, and all I can think about is that the Dark Lord is going to come back for me, and this time Dumbledore isn't here." Harry didn't realize his voice was rising as he spoke. "That's what's wrong, Ron. Everything's so screwed up I don't know up from down. You, however, are completely normal, happy Ron, and I hate you for it!" He had screamed the last sentence. Ron's eyes were somber.

"That's not true, mate." He looked sadder than Harry had ever seen him. Harry opened his mouth to say more, but found large female hands on his shoulders. McGonagall brushed his dirty hair aside.

"Harry, we need to talk." Harry started to argue with her. "Now," she said. She turned to Ron. "Go home, Ronald. I've got him." To get some privacy, she walked Harry into the hippogriff's room and transfigured a couple pieces of broken molding into two folding chairs. Harry watched Buckbeak sleeping for a moment. It was so peaceful. He sat down heavily on one of the chairs and sighed. McGonagall sat next to him and waited a few moments, hoping he'd speak. Finally she said, "Harry, I know I'm no substitute for Albus, but I do want to help. Can you tell me what's hurting you? We're getting worried about you."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it again. He looked confused. "There's so much … death in my head Professor. I don't know what to do with it."

McGonagall's blood ran cold. This was so far beyond anything she understood. She felt completely lost. She did the only thing she knew to do. She put a hand on Harry's shoulder, lifted his face, and looked him squarely in the eyes. "Harry," she said, "you're going to be alright. Your friends are going to take good care of you, but don't pull away from us, ok?"

Harry looked away and started crying silently, with his arms pulled tightly around him. "Professor, can I sleep in here tonight?" Harry asked.

"Here, Harry? Why? You have a safe dorm to sleep in." She was getting more and more worried by the minute. Harry had sounded like a child, not the 17-year-old he was. She made a mental note to get a psychologist from St. Mungo's to come for a visit, if she could find one brave enough to come to Hogwarts with all that was happening.

She forced herself to stroke his hair comfortingly, although she felt like wiping her hand on her dress after touching it. _Merlin's beard, but he's getting to be as bad as Severus_, she thought, and then quickly chased the thought from her mind with a sharp pain of guilt. _No_, she thought, _There's nothing in him like Snape. He's a good boy, just a little off right now_. But as she looked at him sitting there staring at his badly bitten fingernails, she was reminded a great deal of the time a very young Snape had sat in Dumbledore's office, trying to understand why his parents had died and he was alone. A family took in his sister, but they didn't want him, and he was truly an orphan. How old had Severus he been then? Ten? She couldn't quite remember, but it bothered her greatly. They had already lost one hurt child when Severus became a Death-eater. She wasn't going to allow Harry to be lost as well.

"I'll allow it tonight. I'm not sure it's safe, but if it will help you sleep, we'll try it. Who would you like to stay with you?"

Harry thought. He went over all of his closest friends in his mind. Hermoine annoyed him right now with her helpfulness, as did McGonagall. The two people he did want, Sirius and Dumbledore were dead. Actually, come to think of it, everyone annoyed him. He just wanted to crawl in a hole and hide. "Lupin, I guess. At least he'll leave me alone." He hoped McGonagall got the hint. She did, and reminded herself that Harry wasn't being himself right now. He needed patience.

"Very well. I'll talk to him and get some blankets from the other room." Harry curled up next to Buckbeak and laid his head on his rising and falling side. Buckbeak raised his head with a surprised look. He looked at Harry, then looked at McGonagall, and then back at Harry. He licked the top of Harry's head once and went back to sleep. McGonagall left the room to find Lupin. She felt deeply troubled.

Ssss

When Severus Snape woke this time, he knew where he was, and didn't care for it. How long had he been asleep? It looked like the sun was setting, but that couldn't be right. Or could it? He wasn't thinking straight, and his brain felt fuzzy somehow. He was chilled to the bone, and hot at the same time. He had been avoiding the use of magic in a muggle area. It would only draw attention from aurors. He felt a pain under his ribs, and his breath was wheezing badly.

_Wonderful_, he thought. _I'm getting pneumonia. Is there anything else that can go wrong?_ He would have to chance some magic, or he wouldn't live much longer. He took out his wand and placed the tip above his left lung, where the pain was located. He hesitated. This might not be a bad way to die. A day or two of pain and illness was much better than torture by dementors. _No_, he thought. _I owe it to Dumbledore to live. He wouldn't have wanted me to kill myself_.

He cast a healing spell. Nothing happened. He cast it two more times – nothing. He looked at his wand in confusion, and then realized he was too sick to cast magic anymore. He felt a small panic, and then a sense of relief – no dementors for him, then. He slipped into unconsciousness.

ssss

The next day, Harry put on his cloak and slipped into the restricted section of the library. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he knew that he needed better than what he was being taught in classes. If the experience of the Death-eaters and Voldemort was combined, it amounted to hundreds of years of magical learning. He had a little over half a decade. It wasn't enough. He needed an edge. He needed something that He Who Must Not be Named wouldn't see coming. That Snape-in-the-Grass would have told his master every spell and counter spell the students would know. He looked over the books carefully. Many were far too specialized to be of any use. There was a book on Water Magic, for example, that was only useful if the wizard was actually underwater. Another one contained magics that only worked by harnessing the power of nearby volcanoes – hardly useful.

He avoided the books that obviously reeked of evil; he wasn't that desperate yet. He paused over one named In Defense of the Dark Arts. It felt evil and alluring at the same time. He started to move on, but stopped. This would be something that Voldemort wouldn't expect – Harry Potter using dark magic against him. He picked the book up and slid it in his pocket. Then he thought of Dumbledore, and almost put the book back.

_No_, he thought. _Dumbledore is dead. I have to do what it takes to kill Voldemort. I'll only use it against Voldemort and his Death-eaters, and then I'll never use it again_. It felt like a hollow excuse. He left the library feeling like he'd left an important part of himself behind in the restricted section.

Later that night he found the Room of Requirement and began studying. Many of the spells made him nauseous, and he couldn't bring himself to cast any of them – yet. When he returned to his room, Ron was studying potions. He gave Harry a sour look and went back to studying. Somewhere in the back of his brain Harry realized he should apologize for the way he'd been acting lately, but he decided to worry about it later. He tossed his bookbag in the corner and lay in his bunk. He waited for Ron to go to sleep, and then he hid the book in a box with a false bottom. He did actually manage to get some sleep that night - not dreamless - but sleep at least. It had done him some good to spend a night away from the school with Buckbeak.

ssss

Sometime in the early morning hours, Fawkes found the man he had been looking for. He swept into the barn, feeling satisfaction at the fear of the pair of resident owls, and landed on Severus Snape's chest. Snape groaned, but didn't wake up. Fawkes nipped him on the ear. He was becoming impatient. Snape's eyes opened and he tried to focus on what was so heavy on his chest. He saw two phoenixes. As his eyes focused, the two birds merged into one bird, and he grumbled, "Fawkes – off - can't breathe."

Fawkes stepped aside and Severus realized he was still having trouble breathing. He let out a weak couch, which turned bloody. He lapsed back into unconsciousness. Fawkes shook his feathers in annoyance. This one had always been tough to deal with. He thought of Dumbledore, and remembered seeing him with Snape in his office. Snape had just been a child, and Dumbledore was comforting him after his parents' death. He had looked so small then, holding one of Dumbledore's lemon candies and crying while Dumbledore fetched a handkerchief. Dumbledore had always thought that sweets were a great restorative. He remembered Dumbledore telling Snape that he wouldn't let him go to an orphanage, and the little Snape crying in his arms. He had fallen asleep in the Headmaster's arms, and Dumbledore had loved him as a son ever since, albeit a cranky son. It made Fawkes sad, and a single large tear fall on Severus.

Severus woke, his mind suddenly clear. He sat up and looked around him. His lungs didn't hurt, and he could breathe clearly again. His fever was even gone. He did, however, feel filthy. How long had he been here? Fawkes lifted a book and put it in his lap. He cocked his head and studied Severus. "Fawkes?" Snape said. "You healed me?" He was quiet for a moment. "At least someone knows I didn't betray Albus." Fawkes nuzzled his hand and flew out of the barn, as always making sure he made a dramatic exit.

Severus felt sadness as he left. Fawkes was the only tie he had left to Albus. He studied the book in his lap. It was faded and brown. He opened it and looked. It was Dumbledore's journal for the new school year. There wasn't much in it. There were a few technical notations about running the school, a couple names of first years the Headmaster had felt needed special attention, and some notes about the movements of Voldemort. There wasn't much of interest until the last page. He found a notation.

"The horcruxes might be negated with the proper potion. It will turn him not only into a mortal, but a muggle as well. He would then be unable to activate the Horcruxes, which could then be found at our leisure. I must speak to Severus about this. I know the ingredients of the potion, but not the specific measurements."

Severus remembered that Dumbledore had told him he needed to talk to him after curfew, but he had died first. Why had he gone after the horcruxes, then? Why hadn't he waited to try the potion? Then he read the ingredients; common nettles, hair of the sloth, skin of the basilisk, and spike off a horntail dragon. Dragon parts and basilisk parts were almost incompatible. It would take at least two months to bind these into a potion. Dumbledore must have felt that he didn't have that long to wait. _Well_, he thought, _if Fawkes went to all the trouble to bring it to me, it must be worth using_. Two months was a long time to brew a potion, but it was an even longer time to remain in hiding, and despite being healed by Fawkes, he still felt very weak and shaky. He had to find someone who would take him in for two months. Then, he could kill Voldemort.

ssss

The Ministry discussed shutting the school down until Voldemort was caught, but in the end they decided that the students were safer together at Hogwarts than they would be at home. After all, some of the most powerful wizards in the world were there to protect them, and several aurors had taken the task of school security on themselves. Hogwarts began to settle into a normal schedule again. Professor Snape had settled into her work.

The new potions master, Professor Dirnum was finding a place as well. From what Amelia had heard, though, Dirnum was a pale shadow of Severus Snape when it came to potions mastery. Even the students who had hated Snape felt that they were missing out on a lot of information they needed. Severus may have been unlikable, but he was a good teacher.

Amelia hoped he was alive, and then felt guilty for caring about him. Then she decided she would only believe that he was a Death-eater when she heard it from his own lips. He was her brother, and she would help him. She just wasn't sure how.

Her chance came that night. She was walking the halls that night when she heard voices. She used all of her prowess to sneak up on whoever was talking.

She peeked around the corner and saw Filch talking with a man in a hooded robe. She couldn't make anything out about the stranger except that he was medium height. The long robe covered everything else.

"I want some sort of assurance," Filch said.

The stranger chuckled. "We get so little assurance of anything in this life, Filch. Don't push me. Do you want the information or not?"

"How did a student come to know the whereabouts of Death-eaters anyway?" Filch asked.

"That would be my own business. Your business would be buying the information, or not. I do know other people who would be interested, and I can think of many ways you could make this useful to the Dark Lord. For instance, if you were to suddenly appear where a Death-eater was alone, you could kill him and take whatever he was working on. You could claim his kills as your own. There are many other uses for this map. Be creative."

"I don't trust people in masks, and what's to keep you from going to the Ministry with this? Why did you come to me instead?" Filch was clearly suspicious. Mrs. Norris sat at his feet, staring intensely at the stranger. She was growling slightly.

"I serve the Dark Lord, and aurors don't pay; they take what they want. I heard you were a man who liked … interesting collectibles. It took me years to put together, and there are 15 Death-eaters that are constantly tracked on this map. That should be more than enough to do whatever … creative things you wish to do. It is one of a kind, after all. It's worth the price."

"If you serve the Dark Lord, why are you doing this?" Filch asked. "It doesn't make sense."

"It's 15 Death-eaters I want to see dead. That has nothing to do with other loyalties. You're testing my patience, Filch."

"I'll buy it," Filch said grudgingly. "but I want to see it work first."

"Of course. Just look here." He opened the map. "There's no hiding spell involved, so make sure you keep it well hidden."

Filch looked happy. "Irving Irons is there. That's Skyler O'Malley. Look at that, old Terrance Orelian is right next door at Hogsmead. There's even that git Snape. This is perfect. I'll find good use for it." He dropped a large bag of coins into the student's hands. The student opened the bag, closed it again, and turned and left quickly. Amelia watched Filch stuff the map into his robes. Mrs. Norris was still distracted by the student.

Amelia stepped out into the corridor and cast "Petrificus Totalus" on Filch before he could react. He fell, immobilized, onto the floor. Mrs. Norris screeched and launched herself at Amelia, who barely cast the spell on her before the cat reached scratching range.

She retrieved the map from Filch. She paused. She didn't want to do this, but, "Obliviate." When she had erased the memories of both cat and man, she hurried back to her chambers in the Ravenclaw house. Her conscience nagged at her the whole way. _I'm a decent person_, she told herself. _I had to do it_.

She had hated to use the memory charm. Her adopted parents had raised her better than that. She had a feeling that she would have to do a lot worse if she really wanted to help Severus. She opened the map and looked for Severus. At first it was difficult to make him out from the other Death-eaters, but then she found his name. _A muggle village? That doesn't make sense. Severus hates muggles_. Fortunately, she had tomorrow free. There was nothing going on this Saturday except for Quiddich practice and club meetings. She put the map in her cloak so she wouldn't forget it and went to bed.

ssss

Harry wasn't feeling well. He had been trying to be alone for days now, but it seemed like every time he managed to shake one friend, another one would find him. Didn't they understand that people he loved tended to die, often? And besides, it took so much energy to talk to people lately. It was all he could do to make it through his classes with good grades. He was slated to meet McGonagall in her office tomorrow. He was dreading the meeting. She would want to know what was wrong with him, and he couldn't tell her what he didn't understand. He would have to make something up that she would believe. Perhaps then she could get some peace and quiet.

His thoughts were interrupted by Hermoine. "Harry look! He did it! He did it!" She was waving her hand in his face excitedly.

"What exactly did Ron do this time?" Harry asked wearily.

She held her hand out. Harry saw a ring, with a dubious looking diamond on it. "He asked me to marry him. I'm getting married, Harry!" She threw her arms around him, but then stood back and wrinkled here face. "Ugh, Harry, when's the last time you bathed? You smell like a drowned rat."

"Congratulations, Hermoine. I hope you two are very happy." His voice was flat, and his face held no emotion. Harry walked away.

Hermoine stood for a few moments until Harry's actions soaked in, and then burst into tears and ran to find Ron. She felt like she had just lost a friend. Just a few months ago, Harry would have been as excited as she was, but now he seemed like he was somewhere else entirely. She grieved a dying friendship. She didn't want to lose Harry, but he was becoming harder and harder to deal with.

Harry wandered back to his room, wondering why Hermoine's announcement made him feel so miserable. He didn't want Hermoine for himself, but he was jealous of her happiness. Why did everyone get a happy ending but him? It wasn't fair. He decided to distract himself by studying. He was writing an essay for potions when Ron burst into the room. "Don't you ever knock?" Harry asked irritably.

"Don't you ever think? Anyway, it's my room too," Ron snapped back. "We had a perfect night, Harry. Perfect. The only thing left was to show you the ring. She was so excited. You ruined it for her, Harry. What's wrong with you?" Harry saw Ron standing there with clenched fists. Harry stood.

"Apparently, I'm an arse. Apparently, I can't do anything right for you. So apparently, you need to sod off, Ron!" Ron raised his wand, but even caught unprepared, Harry was too fast for him. "Expelliarmus!" Ron's wand shot across the room, and Ron flew across the room as well. He hit the wall and slumped into a small pile on the floor. Harry couldn't move. He was shocked, and the moment seemed unreal. He had attacked Ron. He shook himself out of it and went to Ron. He had a broken arm and his head was bleeding where he had hit the wall. Harry made sure Ron was breathing ok and ran for help. He found McGonagall in the common room lecturing a scared first year about hexing a house-elf. "Hurry Headmistress," he said breathlessly, "Ron's hurt. In our room."

McGonagall ran to his room, and Harry followed feeling alternately guilty and worried. When they arrived, Ron was sitting up and leaning against the wall, holding his head with his good arm. "What happened here?" she asked.

Ron gave Harry a dark look and said, "We were practicing counter-curses for Defense Against the Dark Arts and Harry got carried away. Isn't that right, Harry?"

McGonagall looked at Harry. "Yeah, I went too far. I'm sorry, Ron. I really am." Ron didn't say anything. McGonagall helped him to his feet and told him to go to the hospital wing. She paused in the doorway, and turned to see Harry sitting on his bed with his head in his hands.

"Harry, it was an accident. Ron will get over it." Harry just looked at her. "Don't forget our appointment tomorrow. I expect you in my office on time."

ssss

In the morning, Amelia started for the muggle village. It was so small it didn't even have a name. Although she didn't feel as strongly about muggles as Severus, she didn't like them. It was with annoyance that she remembered she wasn't supposed to use magic in designated muggle areas. She had to take muggle transportation for the first time in her life, so it took much longer to travel the 50 miles than it would have with a broom or a spell. She was almost to the village when she pulled out her map, feeling relief that she was the only one in the taxi. After all, who knows how many people muggles would usually try to fit in one. She saw a barn with his name on it, and then his name disappeared off the map. Her stomach clenched. _Is he dead_? she wondered. Then she saw his name reappear, about a mile inside the forbidden forest that was outside Hogwarts. She was relieved. He had merely apparated. Well, this trip was a waste now. She'd have to turn around and go back. "Excuse me, um, I need to return now."

The cabby pulled over to the side of the road. "You came all the way out here to go all the way back?" he asked in disbelief.

She shrugged. "I made a mistake."

The cabby sighed. "Alright lady, it's your money." He put the cab in gear and turned around. He would be glad to get rid of this one. She reminded him of his creepy great-aunt Gladis. She dressed like people dressed a couple hundred years ago, and she had a way about her that was disturbing.

It was a long way back to the nearest place she could apparate from. As soon as she recognized the area, she told him to stop. "Stop here, lady? It's just fields for miles."

Amelia smiled. "Yes, thank you. Fields are fine. I'll stop here then." She paid him muggle money – she guessed it was the right amount - and walked away into the field. When he left and she was sure she was alone, she apparated to the gates of Hogwarts. She wasn't prepared for the forbidden forest. She might be naïve in some ways, but in the ways of protection she was not. She headed to her office to prepare.

Severus landed in a nettle bush of some kind. He cursed under his breath and tried to free himself quietly. Humans were no longer allowed here, and if he was caught, it meant his death. There weren't many humans who could best him in battle, but centaurs were another matter. One centaur never attacked someone without all the others in earshot coming to help, and they heard extraordinarily well. Humans only had magic. Centaurs had magic and hooves, not to mention the weight of a horse. There were other things in these woods, too. Some of the things that roamed here were much worse than centaurs.

Severus freed himself and began picking his way carefully toward the campus. His years as a spy had paid off. Very few people could sneak like Severus Snape. He had some near misses with Firenze, but wasn't seen. He made his way to the edge of the forest, dug out some leaves to hide under, camouflaged himself with branches, and settled in to wait for the night. The fact that he hadn't bathed in about a week now was actually a benefit. Animals tended to smell human chemicals like soap a mile away. It was like sitting in the forest with a bullhorn yelling, "Human here. Come get a free dinner!"

His stomach growled loudly. _When did I eat last_? he wondered. He wasn't sure, but it had been a long time. He turned his mind to the daunting task of sneaking into one of the most carefully guarded places he knew of. Infiltrating Hogwart's wouldn't be easy, but it was the only way he could think of to get to his potions ingredients. _No_, he corrected himself. _Someone else's potion ingredients_. He could only hope that whoever was the new potions master was meticulous enough that he could find the ingredients quickly.

Amelia quickly gathered powerful potions, a magic bow and arrows, and several odd weapons, one of which was decidedly illegal. She pulled out the map to check Severus' location. It was blank. The map changed to a grinning face and the words appeared on it. "Thought you'd cheat me Filch? The gold disappeared, and so does your map! Rot and die, wanker!" The map dissolved into ashes, which slipped through her hands. It must have been a copy. _O well_, she thought, _I'll just have to do this the hard way_. She hid her weapons and potions in her cloak and headed towards Hagrid's hut. That way if she was stopped she could say she had been going to visit Hadrid. If she wasn't stopped, she could continue on into the forest. She was just going to have to figure out a believable reason to visit Hagrid.

Severus saw her sneak into the woods. _Amelia_? he thought, _Why would she be here? She should be in London with her family_. He pulled himself carefully from his leaf-lair and moved toward where he had seen her enter the forbidden forest. He couldn't find her. _Blast_! he thought, _How can she be so naïve and crafty at the same time_? It was infuriating. He searched for her for a few moments, but couldn't find her. Finally, he noticed a single broken twig, and one human footprint.

He moved in the direction the print pointed, only to hear a quiet female voice directly behind him. "You're lucky I'm not an enemy. You'd be dead now." Although he was extremely annoyed with her, he couldn't help but admire her prowess. The only other person who could beat him in stealthiness, to his knowledge, was Hagrid.

He turned to face her. "What are you doing here, Amelia? This place is dangerous."

Amelia brushed some stray leaves off her cape. She sneered at him. "I'm not as green as you seem to think, Severus. I can take care of myself."

"Apparently."

"Why are you here? You should be as far away from Hogwarts as possible."

Severus was confused by her actions. Was his disgustingly good sister actually here to help him? He bit back a sarcastic reply, for once. He couldn't afford to antagonize the only possible ally he had.

"Amelia, I have to do something. I can't explain it, but I can tell you that it's incredibly important." He watched her face carefully. He saw no betrayal of emotion.

"We will have to talk about that later. I've heard so much about you. I want to hear the truth from you, though." She leaned closer to him. "I will tell you this, though. If you are really working for … him, I'll kill you myself."

He had to work hard not to chuckle. His little sister threatening to kill him was ludicrous at best. _Or is it_? he thought. _It's been decades since I spent any real time with her, and she is a Snape after all. It's best to tread carefully with this one_.

She was biting her lip, a gesture he remembered from childhood. "We need to get you a place to sleep and some food at least." She wrinkled her nose. "And a bath. What did you roll in?"

He sneered, "I haven't exactly had the luxurious accommodations you're accustomed to, Amelia." He was still jealous of her life.

"This isn't the time for family squabbles. Do you want my help or not?"

His eye twitched. He had been fiercely independent for most of his life. Asking for help was almost physically painful. "Come back tonight. I have a plan. I just need a place to stay for awhile."

"Hmmmph … I'd say you need a lot more than that." She said, and left silently.

He crawled back into his makeshift shelter, and grumbled to himself about the cruel fate that forced his annoying sister back into his life. He grudgingly admitted to himself that he was glad she was here. This wasn't the way he would have picked to be reacquainted, but it felt good to have her back in his life. He spent the long day thinking about schemes and potions that might be beneficial in his half-formed plan. By the time nightfall had arrived, he had a full-fledged scheme to kill the Dark Lord. It was risky, but everything was risky now.

Amelia came back that night with a plan of her own, albeit a much simpler one. She snuck into the forest and found Severus waiting for her. "I brought a disguise. You should be able to get into the girls' side of Ravenclaw house, and I'll set up my sitting room for you. We can decide where to go from there." She handed him a black cold-weather robe with a hood. It was fringed with soft gray wolf fur, and was decidedly feminine. Severus sighed. She had to be kidding. His eyes had already adjusted to the lack of light enough to see the amused look on her face. He put the robe on, making a mental note that she would pay for this when he had the upper hand someday.

"Here," she said. "Cross your arms across your chest like you're cold. No. Like this." She tucked his arms under his armpits. "Ok, now be still." She unbuttoned the top two buttons on his shirt.

He let his arms fall. "What are you doing?" He stepped back.

"Just trust me." She barely choked back a laugh. He looked ludicrous enough already. "Women have breasts Severus. You, however, do not. We have to fix that."

"Oh, I DON"T think so," he said decidedly.

"Massage your bruised ego later. We have to do what's necessary to get you somewhere safe. I don't want to do magic where the centaurs can sense it, and I figured you'd rather have fake breasts than real ones. I can either transfigure some onto your body, or you can cross your arms and take the disguise. Your choice."

He crossed his arms and thought about all the spells that were appropriate to use in this situation. There were so many good hexes he would just love to use right now. Amelia dropped two grapefruits into his shirt, arranged them to look like breasts, and closed the robe. She pulled the robe's hood up. "Close enough. Keep your arms crossed and your head down. You might just pass for a really gangly girl." They made their way to the Ravenclaw dormitory. They didn't attract much attention. It was bitter cold and everyone was bundled up tightly. She did notice that he had an odd gait she didn't remember. He seemed to shuffle for some reason.

"Diligence," she said and stepped inside the painting of Laro Lastoon, the first Librarian of Hogwarts. They made their way to her quarters without incident. Severus flopped on the couch, and pulled off the ridiculous outfit.

"I'll get you for this someday," he said.

She smiled. "Of course you will. Here. Make yourself at home." She called a house-elf, which stared at Severus. "Loni, you have to obey me. Tell no one I have a guest or that Severus is on campus. I forbid you to speak anything about him at all. Do you understand?"

Loni nodded, keeping fearful eyes on Severus. "Now, do whatever he asks you." She turned back to Severus. "I have some things to attend to. The bathroom is through there." She pointed. "There are clean clothes for you, and shaving things. Get some rest and we'll talk in the morning."

Severus was about to complain about her authoritarian tone, but decided he was too tired to fight right now. He was desperately hungry, but he had more important things to attend to at the moment. He waited until Amelia was gone, because he couldn't stand the idea of her pitying him. _Is she the type to pity_? he wondered. He knew so little about her.

When he was sure he was alone, he carefully took off his shoes and examined his feet. They were so badly frostbitten he had barely been able to walk to the dorm under his own power, and it took several castings of healing spells to fix the damaged tissue. He had trouble holding the wand in his numb fingers, but he managed his feet and then healed his hands, nose, and ears.

Amelia came back in just as he was finishing working on his ears. She was gracious enough to realize he needed to reclaim his dignity, and left without speaking to him. Several different needs fought for mastery in his body, but he decided he needed to be clean even more than he needed food or sleep right now. He might not be the cleanest person in the world, but even he had his limits.

He told the elf to bring him food, and then enjoyed the first good bath he'd had in a week. When he came out, he was in a new set of night-robes and black silk pajamas. He admired his sister's sense of aesthetics, at least. The clothes were much nicer than the Spartan taste he usually indulged in. He wondered where she had found them. The house-elf had left him a bowl of stew and an entire loaf of bread. Although he didn't eat very much generally, he ate everything the elf had left and could have eaten as much again.

Amelia had left him a black chenille throw, and a thick dark quilt, as well as a goose down pillow. As he bedded down on the couch, he felt the luxury of comfort after a week of sleeping in various cold, wet places like an animal. He mused on the irony. Not long ago, he would have thought sleeping on someone else's couch below his dignity both as a Snape and as a Slytherin. Now the simple state of being warm, fed, and dry at the same time felt like the epitome of luxury.

Amelia didn't sleep much that night. She lay in bed starring at the ceiling wondering what she was going to do with a rogue Death-eater.

Conflicting loyalties struggled within her. Her main feeling was guilt. She hadn't cared about him when she was in London, with her comfortable job teaching in a girl's school and a happy family to come home to at night. _I've got to fix that_, she thought. _If I don't have to kill him for being a Death-eater, I'll never let him fall away from me again_.

Severus slept for two days.

ssss

"You want me to do what?" Harry asked angrily.

McGonagall pinched the bridge of her nose. She felt a headache coming on. "It's not that bad, Harry. You've had some very bad things happen to you, and you need more help than we can give you. This is a reputable doctor. He's Lupin's cousin. As long as you don't give away secrets of the Order, there's no danger in you talking to a psychologist."

"A head-shrink?" He looked incredulous. "I'm not crazy."

McGonagall kept her thoughts on that issue to herself. "I'm not saying you're crazy, Harry. You just need help from someone with more experience in this area."

Harry stopped and looked her in the eye with a searching glance. "You're afraid of me." He looked hurt.

"No Harry, we're afraid _for_ you. You're not well."

Harry looked at his lap for a moment, and picked at his fingernails. "Alright," he said hesitantly, "I'll do it." Lying was getting easier for him.

She dismissed him and penned a letter to the Order members. She called for an emergency meeting, and sent a copy to everyone except for Harry. Something had to be done before they lost him completely.

"I've called you here to discuss Harry."

Ron snorted. "I've had quite enough of Harry, lately."

Lupin spoke up. "I'm worried about him. He's been withdrawn and morbid lately. I tried to speak to him after the last meeting and he completely blew me off. That's not really like him."

"It bloody well is," Ron said. "I think that's just what he's like now. Do you know what he did to Hermoine?"

"Ron, don't," Hermoine said.

"Why? Why do you always protect him? I'm tired of the way he's been treating you lately. You shouldn't put up with it."

"Hermoine, what happened?" McGonagall asked.

"He's just been really weird lately, Headmistress." She turned to Ron. "I put up with it because I don't think that's really him. I think he'll be alright if we just stick by him."

McGonagall wasn't entirely surprised. Ron had asked her for room re-assignment earlier that day. "Will Harry still talk to anyone?" There was no answer. "This is bad. I'm concerned that if we don't do something soon, we may lose Harry entirely."

Ron looked frightened. "It's that bad? I thought he was just being a jerk."

"No Ron. Try to be patient with him. He really needs us right now."

"I will. Um, nevermind what I was talking to you about earlier, then. I'll stay roommates with him."

"That's good Ron. I'm proud of you."

Lupin spoke up, "I'll try to get something out of him. He probably just needs to get some things out of his system."

ssss

Amelia wasn't there when Severus awoke, but he found a note pinned to the quilt. "Don't leave until I return. I have some questions for you."

He laughed. "I'm sure you do." He wasn't in the habit of taking orders from anyone who didn't have the power to punish him, however, so he decided to try to get to the dungeon after curfew. If she returned by then, she could ask her questions. If she didn't return in time, she'd just have to wait until he got back.

As he searched the room, he discovered that he had underestimated his sister's craftiness. She had left him sleeping-robes, but no presentable clothes. He couldn't very well wander around in pajamas in a freezing castle, so he was forced to sit on the couch and wait for her in a progressively worsening mood. The fabrics in the sitting room were femine and mostly gauzy, unfit for transfiguring into clothes.

She returned shortly after curfew. She knew he'd be angry, and she wasn't disappointed in her expectations. She was met with a first class Snape glower that had wilted a number of first years. "Severus," she said in greeting. _No humor right now_, she thought. _I think he's been pushed far enough_.

She was right. "Amelia," he hissed, "we need to get a few things straight. I'm neither accustomed to being treated with disrespect, nor allowing myself to be pushed around. This," he held up the note, "is unacceptable."

She bit back a sharp reply. Here he was talking of disrespect, when two days ago he could have passed for dirty thestral food. Instead she said, "I'm sorry if I offended you Severus. The Snape family isn't exactly known for it's social skills." She watched to see if the hint sank in. He wasn't exactly known for social skills, either.

"I'll let it pass, this time. I need some clothes, though. I have things to do, and I can't very well run around like this."

She chuckled at that, picturing him having an all out magic fight in a nightrobe and slippers. "I have some for you, but it was imperative that you stay here until I could talk to you."

"I'm not a zoo animal, sister. I don't take well to being confined."

She looked sad. "You've changed so much, Severus. I'm not your enemy. Try to remember that."

"You're right. It's just been a rough week. Don't read too much into it. So let's get it over with. Ask your questions. I'll answer them, and you can hate me or not, whatever helps you sleep at night." He sneered at her.

She refused to allow him to bait her. "Severus, this isn't about how I feel about you. It's about whether I try to help you or kill you."

He reached for his wand, and found it missing. "Where is my wand?" he demanded angrily. It was an extremely aggressive act to take a wizard's wand.

"I'll give it back shortly." She was fingering her own wand. "Are you a Death-eater?" she asked bluntly.

He rolled up his sleeve, allowing the black mark on his arm to blare its presence, and sat back in the chair, glaring defiantly. "There. Anything else?" He would be blasted to bits before he'd beg for his life. Let her take it if she could. Even unarmed he had a chance.

He was surprised to see tears rolling down her cheeks. This wasn't what he expected. "Why the tears? Go. Call the aurors. That's what you're going to do now, isn't it?"

"Severus," she said quietly, "Why?"

He hated that question. Dumbledore had asked it. Most of the members of the Order had asked it. He had asked it of himself. He gave her the only answer he'd ever been able to find.

"The Dark Lord promised me things – power mostly. He talked about the pack mentality of the Death-eaters, like they were a second, predatory family to each other. I was young enough and lonely enough to believe him."

"Lonely," she said, "because you had no family."

"Well of course, you daft witch. What do you think I was doing while you were happy and safe in London? I was trying to survive with no parents and no friends but an old wizard and a mudblood."

He had meant to hurt her, but he felt bad when he saw how fully the shot had hit home. His pride prevented him from apologizing, however. He began to prepare himself mentally for an unarmed fight. If he launched himself for her preemptively, he might just take her by surprise, and be able to get her wand away from her.

She interrupted his thoughts. "I'm sorry, Severus. I wish I had been there for you. I want to help you now, but you have to turn away from He Who Must Not Be Named. I know you can't really want to be a Death-eater. Please, Severus. You have family now. You don't need him."

He was completely stunned. This was the second person in his life that was willing to take a chance on him although he was a Death-eater. She didn't even know the truth yet, and she was still willing to risk everything for him.

"I already have. I was Dumbledore's spy. Can you use Legimancy?" She nodded. "Ask me again and look. I won't occlude my mind as long as you stay on that topic." She cast the spell, and saw enough to convince her that he was telling the truth. He waited, ready to fight for his life if need be.

"I'll help you to kill him. What do you need?" she asked. He relaxed. He was relieved that he wasn't going to have to kill her.

ssss

Harry actually considered skipping Defense Against the Dark Arts the next day. He was learning a lot, but he didn't want to deal with Ron and Hermoine in the same class. It was the only class the three of them had together this semester. He couldn't risk the trouble it might get him into. He had much more attention from well-meaning friends than he wanted already.

He tried to act as if nothing was wrong as he sat at the table. Ron and Hermoine were surprisingly civil. Professor Snape came in, and the class grew quiet. Students grasped wands under their desks. She had a habit of randomly yelling hexes during her lectures. She had lectured them on body language and eye movements, as well as other ways to gauge a wizard's intentions.

She turned, and Harry saw her wand arm twitch and her eye move toward him. Harry jumped up, upsetting the table and sending books and papers everywhere. Her wand was coming up. "Expelliarmus!" he yelled. Her wand came out of her hand, and she staggered as if hit by an invisible fist. She stayed her ground however.

"Very good, Mr. Potter. You are the first student to properly anticipate my attack. Ten points for Griffindor. Now clean up the mess so we can continue."

Harry levitated things back into their proper places and sat down. Several Slytherin students looked at him with open admiration. He was surprised at himself. It wasn't in his nature to launch an unprovoked attack, much less against a teacher.

ssss

It wasn't difficult to sneak around Hogwarts for Severus. He knew hiding places and tunnels that very few people knew existed, and he knew them by heart. He could scurry along them like a rat, avoiding the aurors and faculty patrolling the school. He made his way to the dungeon in a tunnel so thin he had to flatten himself against the walls and breathe shallowly. He got to the secret entrance to the potions storeroom, and found that it still worked. He opened it slightly. It was dark inside, so he was alone.

"Lumos," he said quietly. The room lit up. He felt slightly queasy. There were cobwebs and paper piles, and his carefully arranged potions were in complete disarray. He could only wonder what the pig responsible for this was teaching his students. He had to fight the urge to clean the mess and get to the business of finding the ingredients he needed.

He had planned to do his sneaking well after curfew, but he still had to put on the ridiculous costume his sister had provided before he spoke to the Librarian's picture that guarded Ravenclaw. He couldn't have a gossipy picture telling the whole school that he was on campus. He'd never had much reason to bother with Ravenclaw house before, so he didn't know if there were any secret passages he could use. He would have to find out. He wouldn't enjoy dressing in drag every night.

He returned to Amelia's rooms without incident and found her there waiting for him.

"I got the things you asked for: silver cauldron and ladle, full set of measuring tools, and a scorch-proof floor covering." He chuckled. He hadn't asked for the floor covering. She was a little vain, then.

"Did you get everything you needed?" she asked.

"Not quite. There weren't any nettles. The man has basilisk's skin but no common nettles. Unbelievable. I'll have to go out and get them." With great misgivings he picked up the black and grey robe.

"You don't have to use that. I found another way into the dorm today." He dropped the robe on the couch. "The restricted section in the library has some amazing information". She grinned.

"That's good," he grumbled. "I was getting really tired of that robe."

She showed him the new way out. It was an underground tunnel that ran to Gryffindor House. There was a small hatchway, and Severus found himself inside what seemed to be a statue. He opened a small door and found that he had been inside the statue of Godric Gryffindor. _If only he knew what he was helping to do tonight_, Severus thought. _I'll bet he's rolling over in his grave right now._

He made it inside the woods and collected the nettles quickly. He wanted to get out of the woods as soon as possible and begin brewing the potion. He was almost to the edge of the woods when a twig breaking made him pause. Someone was in here with him. He tried to throw the tracker off but whoever it was knew their business. Just when he thought he had lost him, he felt an extremely large hand close around his neck from the back and lift him off the ground. He gasped for air and reached for his wand, but another large hand closed over his wrist and snapped the bone effortlessly. He began to see lights in front of his eyes. He was thrown roughly to the ground, and he felt several punches land, breaking a couple of ribs and his nose as well. He tried to fight, but he was still blind from pain and only received a knee-breaking kick for his efforts.

"Great bloody traitor," growled a voice he recognized.

"Hagrid, fancy meeting you here." His sight cleared and he saw the half-giant looming over him pointing something at his head. Was that an umbrella?

Hagrid seemed to be struggling with himself. "Dubledore was a great man. The only reason I'm not killing you now is it would disappoint him. But," Hagrid dropped the umbrella, "That doesn't mean I have to return you as pretty as when I found you." The last thing Severus saw was a fist roughly the shape and size of a ham coming at his face at full speed.

Harry was patrolling the halls in his cloak again when he had to jump aside to avoid Hagrid stomping by him, carrying someone in his arms. Blood dripped on the floor as he passed. Harry decided to follow. Hagrid stopped outside McGonagall's office. "Quiddich," he said. The panel swung open and Hagrid stepped inside. Harry ducked in with him. Hagrid walked into her office and unceremoniously dumped the bundle onto her couch.

"Hagrid, who is that? Why did you bring him here instead of the hospital wing?" She moved to examine the stranger. He seemed familiar, but she wouldn't know him until Pomfrey had done a large amount of healing. "His face is a mess. What happened?"

"I didn't mean to kill him, Headmistess. I was just so mad. I've never done that before."

"It's ok, Hadgrid. There's still a pulse. You did this?" She was shocked. Hagrid had always been one of the most gentle men she'd ever known.

"I did. The traitor deserves worse, but I didn't want to disappoint Dumbledore."

McGonagall drew a deep breath and forced herself to hold her temper. Hagrid was flustered, which meant she might not get much out of him. "Hagrid, start from the beginning. Who is this?"

"Professor Snape."

"Amelia?" She had a hard time believing Hagrid would beat a woman.

"No, the other one."

She stared at the bleeding lump on her couch. She wanted to punch him too.

"Hagrid. I'm sorry about this, but I'm afraid you'll talk too much," she said. "Obliviate."

Hagrid stood, stunned and blinking. McGonagall lead him outside and sat him against the wall near her office. She returned and pulled out her wand.

"It would be so easy," she murmered. "No one would know anything." She shuddered and put her wand back in her cloak. "No. I'm not a murderer, and I want you to be well and conscious so the dementors can really give you what you deserve. They can do so much more damage than I can." She cast a binding spell on him. She threw some floo powder into the fire, clearly said, "Hospital Wing at Hogwarts." and stepped inside.

Harry had almost fainted when he realized he was in the same room as Severus Snape. This was his chance. He barely contained himself until the Headmistress left the room, and then took off his cloak. He went to look at the Death-eater. He cast a few healing spells on him - just enough to bring him back to consciousness. He had quite a few questions, and this time Snape was going to answer him.

The sight that met Snape's eyes when he awoke was bizarre to him. He was in a garish office with a deranged teenager staring at him. "Potter?" he asked. He wasn't sure. This didn't look like the Potter he had taught. He looked like a wild man, and his eyes reminded him of the eyes of Sirius Black after he had escaped Azkaban. His face was pale and his hair wasn't the messy hair he remembered. It was greasy and overgrown. He looked like _he'd_ been in the woods for a week.

Harry cast a silencing charm on him. "I don't want to hear your voice," he hissed. "I want your memories. Legimens."

Suddenly Snape found his mind assaulted, and only years of Occlumancy practice against the Dark Lord helped him push Potter from his mind. _Potter's strong_, he thought. _I don't know how much longer I can keep this up_. Harry tried another time, and failed again, but it was harder for Snape to keep him out of his mind. He realized Potter was attacking him much more strongly than the Dark Lord ever had.

"Alright," Harry said. "We've got plenty of time. She forgot that Poppy is in London tonight with her cousin. Now, I'm going to try this again, and if you fight me, I'll use force. Legimens." Of course, Severus fought him. Harry gripped his wand tighter. "Crucio." The pain of the curse combined with the pain from the broken bones was too much, and when Harry released him from the curse, he couldn't fight anymore. He felt Harry reach into his mind and pull memories to the surface.

Harry watched Snape kill Dumbledore, but this time he heard the inaudible pleading Dumbledore had made to Snape. He broke the spell and fell back against McGonagall's desk. It hit him with a shock. "You're innocent," he said. "We were about to kill an innocent man."

Severus heard him and felt some relief. No one would doubt the Golden Boy, and he counted on his foolish Gryffindor sense of honor to free him.

Harry got up from the floor and looked Severus in the eye. Years of Dumbledore's training about forgiveness and McGonagall's many speeches about Gryffindor's responsibilities came back to him. "I saw what happened," he said. "I'll tell McGonagall when she gets back." He raised his wand to cast more healing spells, and then stopped. For six years, he had lived life according to the Gryffindor code of honor, and where had it gotten him? His friends were dead and his life was in extreme danger.

He looked at Snape, and saw that his eyes were glazed. "Can you hear me?" Snape nodded slightly. "Good. I know you're innocent, but you and I still have some things between us. You know more about my parents than you're admitting. The sorting hat almost put me into Slytherin. I think I'll indulge myself in their philosophy for awhile. I'll take what I want just because it suits me. Legimens."

Again he was back in Snape's mind, and he aimed for memories of his parents. He needed answers only Snape could give him. He saw a few scenes of James and Severus bickering and casting minor curses at each other, as well as a few in which Snape took on all of the Mauraders at once and got his arse handed to him.

ssss

And then Harry found part of what he'd been looking for. A very young Snape was sitting in the forest, crying as if he was about to burst. Harry saw his own mother sit next to him and put her arm around him. She couldn't have been more than ten at the time. "I'm so sorry Severus. What's going to happen to you now?"

He blew his nose loudly on his sleeve. Harry saw his mother grimace. "I don't know, Lilly. Dumbledore said I won't have to go to an orphanage." He sniffled. "I'm so alone," he wailed.

She sat with him until he calmed himself. "Your not alone, Severus. What about your friends?"

"What friends?" he snarled. "Have you ever seen me with any?"

She was quiet, and looked like she was thinking. "I'll be your friend, Severus. Then you won't be alone, right?"

He laughed. "That's rich. What about your precious Gryffindors? Do you really think they'd let you be friends with me?"

"It's not their business who I'm friends with. They don't need to know, anyway."

"Oh, I see. Pathetic Snape's only friend is a pity friend that won't even admit she knows him in public. Forget it, mudblood. I'd rather be alone."

Lily Evans stood up and brushed the leaves off her skirt. "Mudblood? Then be alone," she said, and walked out of the forest.

The memories faded. Snape was fighting him again, trying to Occlude his mind. He was still very weak though, and Harry was able to brush aside his mental defenses without much effort. Another memory surfaced.

Snape was older now, and Harry's mother was by the lake. Snape was running toward her. "Lilly, wait." I shouldn't have said that to you. You were just trying to help me. I'm sorry." Harry had never heard Snape apologize to anyone.

"Why did you say it?" She tuned to him, and Harry saw tears in her eyes. "I've tried for years to be your friend, you bloody ungrateful jerk!" She took a step towards Snape, fists balled up.

Snape backed up. "I was hanging upside down at the time, remember? I haven't called you that for years, have I?"

Lilly looked him over thoughtfully. "You're lying. I've seen you in worse situations and you didn't use language like that, at least not to me."

"I said it because you frighten me. There, I said it. Are you happy?"

She stopped and unclenched her fists. "What? That's the craziest thing I've ever heard."

"Go ahead Evans, make fun of me. Go on with you perfect friends and your perfect life."

"Why would you be afraid of me? I only want to like you, Severus. Why won't you let me?"

Severus looked down at his feet. "I care about you Lilly. People I care for tend to get killed, like my parents. I don't want that to happen to you." He looked back up. Lily looked horrified. "I don't need your pity!" he yelled, and ran away from her.

Harry heard a faint, "Severus, wait."

Harry saw Snape and Lilly talking by the lake again. It was winter this time, and both of them were well bundled up. "Lilly, I know you like Potter, but I'm telling you, he's no good."

"Why, Severus? Because you don't like him? He's my choice, and if you want to keep being my friend, you'll have to respect that."

Severus didn't get to reply. Harry saw him spin around into the angry face of James Potter.

"What are you doing trying to do? Turn her against me? Get away from my girlfriend, you greasy little bookwyrm!"

"Hey!" Lilly said, "I can make up my own mind about who my friends are, James. This is between me and him."

James scowled at Lilly. "Very well, be his friend. I don't care." He grinned. "It's not like he's competition or anything."

He began to walk away. Severus turned to Lilly. "Lilly, I…"

"Hey Severus," James yelled. Severus turned. James was across the clearing. "Crucio." Severus fell. Harry heard his father laugh. "Enjoy."

"Finite Incantatum," Lilly yelled. She knelt beside him. "Are you ok?"

He groaned and retched on himself. She said a spell and the mess disappeared. "I'm so sorry, Severus. He's never done that before. Talk to me. Are you ok?"

He sat up and laughed. "I'm fine. Now I can get his perfect arse kicked out of school, if anyone believes me. They'll believe you though Lilly. You can't protect him. He used an unforgivable curse."

Lilly looked panic stricken. She grabbed his shoulders. "Please, Severus. I love him so much. If you tell he'll go to Azkaban. I'd die." She was crying. "Promise me you won't tell."

"I promise Lilly. I shouldn't, but I do."

"Make me an unbreakable promise."

"You don't trust me?" He sounded hurt.

"This is too important, Severus. If our friendship means anything to you, please promise."

Severus made an unbreakable promise. He watched Lilly walk away, and he muttered to himself, "The things I do for love."

Snape's mind faded into another memory.

Harry saw the night Severus took the Dark Mark. Men in masks stood all around. Only Voldemort himself was unmasked. Snape made a vow and took the mark. Others did the same.

Blackness, and then another memory…

James Potter was walking down the street in Diagon Alley. Severus pulled him into an alley, placed a hand on his shoulder and hissed in his ear, "Enjoy last night, Potter?"

James looked up at him innocently. Harry saw that the book he was carrying was Quiddich Through the Ages. He looked Severus squarely in the eyes. "I don't know what you are talking about. I was at home all night."

Severus grabbed his arm and pulled his sleeve up. The Dark Mark was still raw and swollen, but it was unmistakable. "I know you were taking the vow last night. Masks don't hide your voice, you moron."

James pulled his sleeve down and looked around. "If you tell anyone, I'll kill you."

"I don't plan to. I don't care anything about you, but Lilly doesn't deserve a husband in Azkaban, especially with a baby coming. Does she know about this?"

"Of course not. Lilly's a good woman, and I'm going to keep her that way.

Snape fought Harry feebly, but Harry batted away his defenses like a hand brushing at a fly. Harry felt him weakening, but was too angry to stop his attack. He forced another memory to the surface.

Snape knocked on a door. James opened it. "What are you doing here?" he said in a whisper. "Lilly's here. I told you, no business around her."

"We have to talk."

"This had better be important. Lilly", James called into the house. "I need to go to the store for some fags. Do you need anything?"

"Some chocolate frogs," Harry heard from inside the house, "and some ice cream. I'm having cravings."

He stepped outside and grabbed Severus' arm. They apparated inside some woods. "I know what you're doing, James."

"What are you talking about?"

"I know you're planning to betray the Dark Lord and try to take over. Don't do this. He's too powerful. You can't win."

"I can and I will. Will you help me? I'm strong enough to do this. Lucius will help me. He's not very loyal to Voldemort, and I may not be as powerful as the Dark Lord on my own, but I'm sane, and that's so much more than he is. I've got most of the wizarding world fooled into thinking I'm their hero, even that old fool Dumbledore. I'll simply assume a mask, and live a double life." He put on the innocent face again for effect. "Could you suspect this face? C'mon, Severus, the three of us could kill him. Help me and you, me, and Lucius will rule England together."

"No I won't help you! I'm not suicidal, Potter. I won't tell him though."

"Why?"

Severus hesitated. "I don't want him hurting Lilly."

James eyed him suspiciously. "I'm glad you're ugly as sin, Snape. Otherwise I wouldn't trust you around my wife."

"If I wasn't ugly as sin, she wouldn't be your wife. She'd be mine. You don't deserve her, Potter."

"Perhaps not, but she's mine, isn't she?" He laughed and apparated away.

Harry broke the spell and dropped to the floor, head in his hands. Snape expected to hear some sort of childish outburst, but all he heard was a deep groan. _Well_, he thought. _Serves him right_. He couldn't wait until he was well enough to lay into Harry properly. He wasn't a teacher anymore, so he could blast him if he felt like it. However, with the silencing and binding spells he was forced to simply wait until someone returned for him.

After about five minutes Harry sat up and stared blankly at Snape. He pulled out his wand. _This is it_, Snape thought. _He's finally snapped, and I'm going to die_. He braced himself mentally. He would die with dignity, even if no one knew it but him.

Harry removed the silencing spell. "Tergeo," he said, and the blood was gone from Snape's face. He cast a skin healing spell several times on Snape's face and removed the silencing spell.

It took Severus a while to understand that he wasn't going to be killed. "Why are you doing this Potter?" Harry didn't answer. He moved the bone into place and cast a spell on Severus' nose. "Potter, answer me."

"You're not my teacher. I don't have to do what you tell me anymore. Where else are you injured?"

"All over, really. Hagrid did a fairly thorough job. You could start on the knee if you insist on healing me." He watched Potters face. "Why are you doing this?"

"I have my reasons." He began working on the knee, but it was obvious he hadn't practiced the bone healing spells very well, and it took him much longer than it should have to fix a fracture. When he was done, he looked exhausted and sat down. "I'll finish in a few minutes. Healing takes a lot out of a person."

"Yes, it usually does. If you practiced your spells more often instead of thinking so much about Quiddich, you might not be so tired right now."

"You can't help it, can you? I could kill you five times over right now and you still have to antagonize me."

Snape was silent. He was still angry, but he was also curious now. The boy's behavior was bizarre, to say the least. He had just witnessed the reversal of his entire idea of reality and had responded by healing the man who had brought him unwanted knowledge.

"Professor Snape." Harry's voice sounded odd, like he was about to cry.

_Great_, Snape thought, _Here come the water-works_. One of the things he hated about teaching was the responsibility to help the students emotionally. That was something Dumbledore and Hagrid were good at, not him. _Bloody Griffindors_, he thought. _They're always so emotional_.

"So now it's Professor, eh?"

"I'm sorry."

"For what, the Crutacious curse? Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

Harry cleared his throat. "That's not it, but why? You hate me. You could see me in Azkaban."

Snape weighed how much he wanted to reveal. "You saw how I felt about your mother?"

"Yes."

"Every time I see you, I see your father. I'd put your mother out of my mind. She just hurt too much to think about. It occurs to me that I don't want to put her son in Azkaban. There are other reasons, but I'd prefer to keep what thoughts you didn't rip out of me secret."

Harry felt a pain of guilt. "I hate what I saw there. My father was a monster. You were right to hate him. I hate him." Now he broke down and cried.

_Great_, Snape thought. _McGonagall's going to show up here and find the Golden Child on the floor crying. She'll probably give it to me worse than Hagrid_.

"I'm as bad as he is," Harry said. "I'm doing the same things."

Snape couldn't believe Potter was opening up to him. What was he supposed to do with him? What had he meant when he said, "I'm doing the same things."? Snape had a horrible suspicion. It was ridiculous, but what if Potter had taken the black mark like his father? The Dark Lord would probably make him one of the head Death-eaters. Having him as a trophy would be even better than killing him.

"Potter. Roll up your sleeves, please."

Harry looked confused, but did as he was told. "You didn't really think I'd take the dark mark, did you?"

"Then what did you mean, you're doing the same things your father did?"

Harry hesitated. Snape was the last person he wanted to talk to about his feelings, but he had to talk to him about what he had seen.

"No one understands me," he said.

Snape groaned. "Teenage angst? You can do better than that, Mr. Potter. Every teenager says that."

"I don't mean like that. They have something I don't. I can't explain it, but I know that Hermoine doesn't feel a black hole in her soul, and Ron doesn't go to bed with Voldemort on his mind every night." Snape flinched at the name.

"Why are you telling me this, Potter?" Snape asked. He suddenly realized that he was giving therapy to his enemy's son while bound to a couch and waiting for aurors. The unreality of the situation made him wonder for a second if he was still sleeping.

Harry ended the binding spell. "Aren't you afraid I'll try to get away?" Snape asked.

Harry snorted. "Not really. Try to sit up." Snape did, gasped, and fell back on the pillow holding his ribs.

"Nevermind," Snape said.

"I'll fix those in a minute. That wrist is looking pretty bad, too."

Snape realized that as much as he had hated Potter, he couldn't let Lily's son follow in James' footsteps. "Harry." Harry started. Snape had never called him by his first name before. "Have you talked to anyone about what you just told me, about the black hole and such?"

"No. They can't understand. You're like me though. I saw it. I thought you could understand."

"Because I have so much blackness in me? Hardly a compliment, Potter."

"It's what you said about people you care about dying. I said the same thing to a friend the other day, and I've been changing somehow."

"I see," Snape said. "The Potter I taught was a good little Gryffindor who would never take advantage of a fallen enemy. You seem to have taken on a few very dark Slytherin traits. Commendable."

"I hate what I'm turning into."

"Why? You would have made a decent Slytherin, Potter. A hidden dagger suits you much better than a shiny sword. I actually find myself liking you a bit, now that you've come down off your high horse."

"I wasn't on a high horse."

"Really? You could have fooled me."

"It's not my fault I thought my father was someone different than he actually was."

"No. I guess not." Severus hesitated. He hadn't opened up to anyone in his life but Dumbledore. He decided he wasn't ready yet, no matter how politic it might be for him to embrace a new alliance. A token would probably be enough to secure Harry's trust; he wasn't very bright in some ways. "Harry, I suggest we call a truce. We both want to avenge Albus' death, and I think we both understand what it means to be forced to live in darkness. I think we can help each other."

"Why? What's in it for you?"

"You're not the only one who isn't understood. Sometimes I feel like I'm going to hex McGonagall if she tells me to smile one more time."

Harry laughed, and held out his hand. "Truce, then?"

"Truce, but understand this, if you _ever _try anything like that on me again, I'll create new curses just for you." He reached out with his good hand and shook Harry's had firmly.

McGonagall picked that minute to emerge from the fire - without Poppy - to the unlikely sight of Potter and Snape shaking hands.

When Severus didn't return, Amelia began reading the Prophet daily to check for his arrest. _Was he only using me_? She wondered. Somehow, she felt like she'd lost something valuable. No one asked her about her brother, but the Headmistress still gave her dark looks in the hallway whenever their paths crossed.

Her classes were going well, even if she was having to make up for the lack of stability in teachers over the previous years. Potter and Granger were her top students. Potter seemed absolutely starved for information about the subject. She walked into class to see him at the back, alone. She began her lesson.

At the end of the class, she smiled at the nervous students. "You're all doing very well. Not a single curse has caught anyone off guard for several days. I honestly think a few of you might have a slim chance against a Death-eater. For tomorrow, read chapter twelve, and write an essay on the weaknesses of the dark arts and how to exploit the lack of cooperation often found among dark wizard's."

There was the usual shuffling of papers and discussion of Quiddich and club plans. She saw Potter slinking toward the door. _Slinking?_ she thought_. That's not right. Griffindors don't slink, they strut._

"Mr. Potter," she called. "Come to my office for a few minutes, please." He wouldn't meet her eyes and followed her silently. When they reached her office she sat down and waved him toward a chair. He almost sat down, but jumped up when the cushion grew teeth and tried to bite him. She laughed. "Constant vigilance, Mr. Potter," she said, doing her best Mad Eye Moody impression. He took another chair and scowled at her.

"Well, you're in a particularly sour mood today. That generally gets at least a chuckle out of most of my students, except for the Hufflepuffs. It makes them cry, but then Hufflepuffs seem to cry a lot, don't they Mr. Potter?" He avoided looking at her and seemed to be trying to hide in his hair, which was hanging unattractively around his face. _Blast_, she thought. _That's my best material. If that doesn't make him laugh, I'm stuck. _Student conferences always went better if she could loosen them up a bit first.

"What did you want, Professor?" It wasn't quite rude, but again she felt like something was off here. He had been surly at the beginning of the semester, but he had changed too much, even for a moody teenager.

"You're doing well in class, Potter." She looked to see if he would respond with any look of pride. He didn't. "I wonder if you're perhaps studying too much, though."

"I study enough to make top grades."

"Yes, obviously, but you seem unwell. I want you to go to see Poppy."

"I've been to see Poppy, three times this week already. All my teachers keep sending me to her. I wish people would just leave me alone.

Amelia was surprised. She balanced her duties as a teacher with the distaste she felt for this particular student. He was arrogant and moody and standoffish. Still, he reminded her of someone. She made a point not to get involved in her student's personal life, but this one too obviously needed help to pass the opportunity by. "Where is my class roster?" she mumbled, making sure she spoke just loudly enough for him to hear. "Ah here it is. Let's see." She studied Harry's face intently. "Turn your head, Mr. Potter. No, the other way. Hmmm." She made some marks on the roster. Harry saw her cross his name off the list for the last four weeks of the semester.

"What are you doing? I haven't done anything wrong! You can't do that."

Amelia faked a look of surprise. "Of course you haven't done anything wrong, Mr. Potter. This isn't a punishment; it's an inevitability." Harry was curious in spite of himself. "Since at the rate you're going you'll obviously be dead by then, I was just making the proper notations. I might forget later."

Harry leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "Very funny. What are you trying to pull anyway?"

"Just trying to get your attention Mr. Potter. I don't know you very well, but you seem to be self-destructing for some reason. I won't push the issue, but if you need to talk, I'm willing to listen." She frowned. "Until then, I would suggest a haircut, at least. You're technically with school attire standards, but just barely." She smiled. "That's all Potter. Think about what I said and go get some lunch. You're too thin by far." Her smile faded as he left the room. That one would be lucky to avoid a long vacation at St. Mungo's.

ssss

A few days later, McGonagall stood near the broken fireplace and called the meeting to order. The Order of the Phoenix was looking a little thin, but everyone there was dedicated – especially Harry, who seemed to be doing better lately. His eyes were still dark and swollen, but he had cut his hair and seemed to have gained a bit of weight. He was still so broody though.

"I have an unusual request, but I need your trust today. Please hand me your wands, and move your chairs as far to the back of the room as possible. I can't explain. You'll understand in a few minutes."

The Order members looked at each other in confusion. Lupin suddenly pulled out his wand and yelled, "Finite Incantatum!" at her. She laughed. "I expected that. I'm not under any spell."

Lupin sheepishly passed her his wand, and the others followed suit. McGonagall swallowed nervously, and then called out, "Ok, you can come in now."

Everyone's interest was peaked as a tall, hooded figure stepped into the room. He stopped and lowered the hood. Hermoine screamed, "Snape!" Ron's jaw dropped, and Tonks jumped to attack him, unarmed.

McGonagall stepped between them and roared, "STOP!" She radiated power to those who followed her, and it was a credit to her leadership that Snape wasn't torn to shreds by the Order of the Phoenix. "Sit – down – now," she said slowly and calmly.

When they were seated, Snape looked them all over. He knew how dangerously close to dying he was at the moment, and he should be explaining himself, but instead he looked at them with the most arrogant, unapologetic sneer he could muster. He couldn't let them see the guilt he carried. Now more than ever he felt compelled to wear the mask he had learned to assume.

All eyes went to Harry, as though they expected him to attack Snape on the spot. He was simply cleaning his fingernails with a penknife, as if Snape wasn't even in the room. "Can I trust you with your wands now?" McGonagall asked.

"Yes," was muttered by everyone but Hermoine. She glared at Snape.

"You might want to keep mine a little longer, Headmistress."

Snape sighed. "Enough Gryffindor posturing, Miss Granger. We don't have time for it."

"You're not my teacher," she hissed. "Don't talk to me like you are."

He stopped and scrutinized her face, just enough to measure her anger. With a surprise, he realized that she might be serious_. This is wrong_, he thought. _Gryffindors are supposed to act like Gryffindors._ Had the war changed even that? Another of the constants in his universe was gone, and he felt a little sad. Things were changing too fast.

McGonagall stepped in. "So much has changed, and so much has been lost. We have to change too. Miss. Granger, you are actually mad enough to kill him right now, even if he were unarmed. If the world has come to the place where a Gryffindor would do such a thing, then it's time to take a good hard look at who we're becoming." Hermoine sniffled and lowered her head. McGonagall continued. "Dumbledore is dead, and more than ever, we have to band together to defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I don't like it any more than you do, but if it means working with Snape, we'll do it."

"Thank you for that sterling introduction," Snape said. He sat a book on the table. "This is Dumbledore's diary. It has a potion for rendering the Dark Lord helpless. He could then be killed at our leisure."

Ron turned red and shouted, "he shouldn't have anything of Dumbledore's. He killed him!" Ron turned to plead with the other members. "Don't you remember? We can't work with him. He killed Dumbledore." He looked to McGonagall. "Why would you ask us to do this, Headmistress? He's probably lying now. It's probably some bloody useless mix that will distract us so we can be killed."

McGonagall spoke quietly. "Sit down Ron. There's more to the situation than you know. Severus I think you'd better explain myself."

He gave them the bare facts. When he realized that no one but Harry and McGonagall believed him, he turned to Harry. "You know the truth, Harry. Tell them."

They studied each other for a while, and then Harry said simply, "It's true, Dumbledore asked. I used Legimens on him and saw the whole thing."

"But why the unforgivable curse?" Hermoine asked. "You can't explain that away."

"I'm not attempting to explain anything away, Miss Granger. I'm simply giving you facts. It's not my fault if your over-emotional brain won't accept what you don't like. It is the least painful way to die that I know of." He was silent a bit. "I didn't want him to suffer."

"I simply don't buy it," Lupin said. "The kindly professor protecting his worst enemy's son at the cost of a life in Azkaban. You can do better than that, Snape."

Snape fingered the book. "I have proof. I asked Fawkes to come tonight." At the mention of his name, Fawkes pulled his head out from his feathers with a sleepy look. "You know how loyal he is to Dumbledore. Fawkes, did I or did I not betray Dumbledore?" Fawkes flew over to Snape and nuzzled his hand with his head and then flew back to his pile of old new newspapers and settled back in. "Well?" Snape dared Lupin to fight such ironclad evidence. Fawkes was beyond reproach.

No one said anything and Snape turned back to the book. "These are the potion ingredients. I was almost ready to make them, when I was ... detained." He glared at McGonagall because Hagrid wasn't there to receive a proper glare. _I owe that mouse-brained mammoth when this is over_, he thought, putting Hagrid on a very long mental checklist of people to whom he owed revenge.

"If you can get close enough to … him, you can just use the potion on him. Is that the plan? It seems too simple." Hermoine wasn't prepared to just let Snape take over like this.

"It isn't quite that simple. There are two problems with that plan. The first is that the potion will take two months to brew. The second problem is this. I won't be your spy anymore."

McGonagall was shocked. "Severus, you can't be serious. We need you. How else will we be able to get the potion on him?"

"I'm not quitting the Order, but I won't be your spy anymore. I don't owe you an explanation," he snarled. "I've done enough for you ungrateful people already."

"But again, Severus, how will we deliver the poison?" McGonagall sounded angry.

"The same way you would have attacked him if I hadn't been here. We don't have to go to him, he'll come to us, especially when it comes out that I've been a spy and I'm fighting for McGonagall against him." Snape checked their expressions. This was critical. If he was going to get back into the wizarding society, he had to get a pardon for using the unforgivable curse.

"But how can you return to society without being sent to Azkaban? You did use an unforgivable curse."

"There have been times when the ministry has granted pardons for unforgivable curse use. It's not entirely unforgiveable, apparently. I'm sure this would be one of them. Draco Malfoy recently received a full pardon from the ministry, despite his use of unforgivibles. I imagine that has more to do with the Malfoys' sizable bank account and influence within the ministry than anything else though."

"It's a risk." Harry said.

"Power requires risk, Mr. Potter."

"Yes," Harry said thoughtfully. "It does."

ssss

When Harry left the room of requirement that evening, he wished he had never found that horrid book about the Dark Arts. He had practiced some of the spells on small animals that the room of requirement furnished, and was appalled at the results. Even with Snape's revelation about Dumbledore's potion, he felt compelled to kill Voldemort himself.

_This is about revenge_, he thought, and studied harder. _I can't risk them killing him first. I only have two months to learn all this before the potion is ready_. _I need to be the one who kills him._

He hated dark magic, though. It was soiled, and he could feel it tainting him. He crawled into bed, exhausted. He wanted to throw out the whole book, but he couldn't. He kept thinking about Dumbledore. He couldn't let his death go unavenged. He seemed to hear Snape's voice saying, "power requires risk."

_Power requires too much_, he thought. Ron's snoring told him he was asleep. Harry took the book out of its hiding place. He pointed his wand at it, and for a few minutes he debated destroying the book, but finally put the book away. He just couldn't do it.

Snape's trial was brief. The evidence Harry and Fawkes gave was overwhelming. Every judge took the time to express a negative opinion of Snape, but in the end, they had to acquit him.

"Well, Severus. These are you're new quarters. Enjoy." McGonagall enjoyed the irony, and the anger she felt boiling off of Snape.

"You've got to be kidding! I will not live here!"

"It's either that or room with Hagrid. What with all the aurors staying here, we only have one extra room in the entire school." She could barely keep from laughing out loud. She usually didn't lie, but she just couldn't resist baiting Severus occasionally. He was just too fun.

"But Gryffindor?" He was almost ready to plead, but not quite.

"Yes Gryffindor. Now, let's get you settled in."

He regretted that he couldn't scowl hard enough to properly show her how much he despised her. "I don't need help settling in."

"I insist," she said sweetly, before saying the password and stepping into the Gryffindor commonroom. She was loving this, and wouldn't miss a minute of it.

"Could this place be any more garish?" he asked, taking in the bright colors of the common room.

"We prefer to think of it as festive and cheery. I think you'll get used to it, at least until quarters in Slytherin open up."

Several students were in the common room and watched Snape head upstairs toward the rooms, with his one personal suitcase.

After they left, Ron was the first able to untangle his tongue. "No way. No freaking way! They can't do this to us. What is McGonagall thinking?"

"Apparently, she's thinking that _Mr._ Snape needs some cheering up." Hermoine laid emphasis on the Mr. She was still enjoying Snape's lack of position in the school.

Ron and Hermoine went back to holding hands. "So, where do you want to honeymoon? I was thinking Wales. There's a Griffin colony there, and I've always wanted to see what they're like close up. I bet they'd make a fascinating study."

Ron wrinkled his nose. "You can't study on our honeymoon. You do know what a honeymoon's for, right?"

Hermoine tossed her hair. "Of course I know what a honeymoon's for. How about Transylvania, then? That's romantic."

"Too romantic. All those blood-red hearts, and that cheesy 'I'd die for you' schtick."

"I can't believe it's only a year away," she said dreamily.

Harry came down the stairs and headed for the door.

"Hey mate," Ron said. "What's the hurry? Did you see the newest Gryffindor?"

"Yeah, he was unloading on us for staring, so I left. McGonagall has a weird sense of humor."

Hermoine patted the arm of a chair near her. "Come on, Harry. Sit down. We don't ever see you any more. How have you been?"

"I'm surprised you notice. Did you two stop snogging long enough to come up for air? I need to study." He stepped through the painting.

"Ron," Hermoine said, "he's getting to be too much."

"I know, but he needs us right now. We need to be patient with him."

"He doesn't need us. He just needs his books now. He studies too much."

Ron feigned shock. "Hermoine Granger, that's the cauldron calling the kettle black."

She cuddled up to Ron and cooed, "I don't study too much now that I've found something just as interesting, now do I?" and kissed him.

"Yes, well I notice you still manage to make top marks," Ron grumbled, and kissed her.

This was a night Harry had been dreading. The room of requirement now held small animals in cages waiting for him. He picked an ugly dog. "Avada Kedavra," he said half-heartedly. Nothing happened. He turned back to the book. "Avada Kedavra," he shouted loudly, but again, nothing happened.

He tried to picture the dog with Voldemort's face. He thought about his parents, and Sirius, and Cedric, and finally Dumbledore lying dead on the cold ground.

"I hate you Voldemort! Avada Kedavra." The dog dropped. Harry dropped his wand and sat down heavily on the floor. "What am I doing?" he asked himself. "Dumbledore wouldn't want this." He threw the book in front of him and yelled, "Incendio!" The book burst into blue flames and disappeared. He felt better, and he actually slept that night.

ssss

The potion had been brewing for almost a month, and it was going perfectly. The dragon and basilisk parts were mixing as well as could be expected. Snape checked it and then left for the next Order meeting.

Tonks was excited. "We finally know where He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is going to be! We can catch him."

Snape was relieved. It might be over soon, then. "The potion is almost finished."

"I thought it was going to take two months to make?"

"Normally, yes. I found a catalyst, though. It should be ready very soon."

McGonagall opened a map of London, and pointed out a small muggle pub. "In five days, there will be a raid on a great deal of muggle London, and he plans on razing this historic pub first and then moving outward. If we can be there before him, we can use the potion on him."

"Are you sure about this?" Snape asked. "I don't want to waste this potion or risk tipping him off to our plans."

"As sure as we can be," Tonks said. "Of course, it would have been better if we'd had a spy on the inside, but that just can't be." She sighed dramatically.

Snape gave her a blank look. She was an infuriating woman. "I would suggest we get there in plenty of time to mingle with the other customers."

"How do we administer the potion?" McGonagall asked.

"We won't know until we get there, but most potions with basilisk ingredients are lethal to the touch. I think we should give the potion to Potter and let him throw it on the Dark Lord."

McGonagall was surprised. "Why Harry? I'd rather have an adult take the risk."

"As would I, Headmistress, but the prophecy suggests it must be Harry."

Harry spoke up. "Dumbledore seemed to think the prophecy might not be as important as we think it is. He was trying to tell me that, before he died."

"In which case, throwing the potion on him with your hands will kill him if the prophecy is accurate or not," Snape said.

McGonagall reluctantly agreed.

Five days later, the Order was ready. Harry sat near the door, with the potion in a glass, so that it would seem to be a drink. Tonks and McGonagall had taken polyjuice potion, and the Order members were scattered around the dark pub. They had even let Harry and Hermoine pick them out proper muggle clothes, although there had been a great amount of explaining necessary, and Severus had never understood the concept of tags.

When Voldemort arrived with the Death-eaters, he burst into the room and headed straight for the bar. He raised his wand and sent off a massive blast into the mirror behind the bar. Customers screamed and glass flew everywhere. He turned toward the frozen waitress near him. "Avada Ke…"

He didn't get to finish the sentence. Harry threw the potion on him and leapt away as a Death-eater tried to Crucio him, but missed. Voldemort simply stood there, dripping and angry. Everyone stopped. He wiped a bit of thick potion off of his face, and licked it scornfully. "What is this? Surely you didn't think you could stop me with a potion?" He lifted his wand.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Harry felt sick, and then he realized he was still alive. Voldemort had a surprised look on his face. He toppled over, and Harry saw Snape behind him, with his wand pointed directly at the spot Voldemort had been standing. No one moved, because no one could believe what had just happened. Snape stared at the dead body, and Harry stared at Snape. Finally, Harry spluttered, "No! This can't happen! What about the prophecy and the potion? It can't have been that simple."

Snape looked up at Harry. "I guess the prophecy was wrong, but the potion did render him mortal."

Harry was furious. "You can't do this to me. I lost my parents because of that stupid prophecy. This means they died for nothing!"

The Death-eaters were easing out the door, taking advantage of the interest in Voldemort's body.

Snape shrugged. "The potion only rendered him mortal. He still had to be killed."

"No," Harry screamed. "I went through too much for this! I was supposed to kill him! I lost my revenge. And you! I'm the good one! You're the bad guy here. You can't be the hero."

Snape just smirked at Harry, "Good, bad – I'm the guy with the wand." and walked out.

ssss

Just to be safe, Voldemort's body was decapitated. The arms and legs were cut off. The body was impaled with silver and wooden spikes, doused in water, and burned thoroughly. The ashes were then placed in a wooden box, which was overlaid with a thick silver coating. His remains are available for viewing in the Shady Rest Funeral home from 8am till 5pm.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended

Chapter 2 – Revenge of the Raven

It was a hectic summer at Hogwarts. After Voldemort's death, reporters swamped the campus – all wanting to interview The-Man-Who-Killed-You-Know-Who. Snape became an expert at avoiding the press, sneaking around the campus as if he was still a fugitive.

McGonagall wasn't surprised when she knocked on his door and found him packing his sparse belongings. "Going somewhere, Severus?"

"Obviously. Any other time-wasting questions for me, or can I return to fleeing this reporter sodden castle?"

"I see you're in a cheery mood today."

He spared time for an ugly glance and returned to packing, pointedly turning his back on her to fold his clothes on the small student bed that must have been at least a foot and a half too short for his long legs.

"I have some good news, actually. How would you like to remain at Hogwarts as the Potions Master again? I'll chase the reporters off if they bother you that much. Most people would be glad of the attention."

"You know that's not my style. I want people to recognize me for my skills, not as some flavor of the month. It's embarrassing. I can't go into Hogsmeade without seeing my name plastered on every magazine and newspaper stand in town. I'm getting as far away from here as possible, as quickly as possible."

"It can't be that bad."

"It is. You should see the headlines. 'Local hero has havoc in heart.' 'How did he do it? An inside story.' Oh, and the worst, 'Dreamy downtrodden duelist – why the new fashion is black and brooding.' I can't stand it. I'll have to take a job in another country just to get away from the teenage fans." He angrily threw some shoes in the suitcase.

"Well, no good deed goes unpunished. I can at least promise you we'll keep the drooling fans at a distance, except for students, that is."

He spun and faced her, his face livid. "Only a month ago, no one here trusted me. I know everyone here thought I'd betray Albus for years. I was always loyal to Albus – always! These "good" people," he sneered, "are the traitors. Give me one good reason I should stay here."

McGonagall felt a sudden pain for the man. Outwardly, he was the stern, frightening Potions Master – dark, forbidding, and unapproachable. Inside however, she knew there was still a hurt, angry child who had never had the chance to heal properly from his horrific upbringing. She wanted nothing more than to grab him in a big bear hug and let him cry on her shoulder as he had when he was a child. He had never confided in her as he had Albus, but hers were the broad shoulders he needed when the world became too dark for a small child. "You should stay because it was Albus' last wish. He wanted you here," she said quietly.

He stopped and calmed himself. "This is the first I've heard of this. What do you mean?"

"You were a fugitive when his will was read, but there was a petition in it for you to be given tenure as permanent Potions Master at Hogwarts, with a plea that you accept the post as a favor to Albus. There was also a personal letter addressed to you." She pulled out an envelope from her robes. "I'm sorry. In all the commotion over You-Know-Who, and then taking over as headmistress, I forgot to give it to you. It's only the middle of summer. Think about it for a couple of weeks. We have enough applicants for the job to get someone in a hurry if we must. Take your time."

She turned to leave, but hesitated at the doorway. "Honestly, I think we'd miss you somehow. I know I would." She left quickly, knowing she had embarrassed him.

He sat on the bed and turned the envelope over in his hands a few times. Albus had remembered him then, even at the end of all things. He felt more alone and lost than he had since Potter had become Albus' new favorite. Damn the brat for taking his only family when he stole Albus! The letter was short, and smelled vaguely of licorice.

"Dear Severus,

I have always tried to respect your need for privacy and decorum, especially in the latter years as your position of spy has strained you to the breaking point. I have refrained from open affection, because it seemed to bother you. I have reasons to believe I may not survive the war, and so I have left personal letters to those I care the most about."

Snape stopped for a moment, remembering the love Albus had given him freely when he would still accept affection from the old man. He felt guilt as he realized it was he, and not Albus who had done the turning away.

"I just wanted you to know that you are like a son to me, and no one can ever replace you, not even Harry, as much as I love him.

I have a few requests to make of you. First, that you stay at Hogwarts as Potions Master. I know you want the Defense Against the Dark Arts Position, but you are the best Potions Master Hogwarts will ever see, and there are many who have studied the Dark Arts and their weaknesses, but very few good at the fine art of potion making. Also, I urge you to accept the friendship of the faculty there. I know you don't feel that you need them, but you can't keep yourself in your dark walls forever.

Second, for my sake, please make peace with Harry. If you are like my son, he's like my grandson. It pains me to see the feud between the two of you. Consider it my dying wish. He'll need someone when I'm gone, and the other adults in his life can't possibly understand him the way you can. The two of you are actually very much alike. You may find that a positive relationship would be to your benefit as well.

Remember my love in the dark times, my child.

Fondly yours,

Albus."

"Sentimental rubbish," Snape growled as he crumbled the letter into a ball and tossed it toward a trash bin, which scampered frantically to catch the ball.

"He never could resist rubbing my face in his pity," Snape growled. He remembered all the times Albus had 'pitied' him, with those awful sweets, and his disgusting hugs, but no matter how hard he tried to pretend he didn't like the attention, he would have given his left arm for a lemon candy about then, or a disgusting hug.

He hadn't really had time to feel his loss until then, and Severus cried for the first time in decades. He hated the weakness of it, but couldn't stop for a good hour. When he was finished, he cast a few spells to cover the physical manifestations of emotion, trained his face back into its solid indifferent look, and began to unpack the clothes he had just finished packing. It was good to know that someone had loved him best, and somehow that changed things. He just wished he had let Albus tell him these things while he was still alive, but it was hard enough to allow someone to talk to him about their feelings, much less an old man forcing sweets on him.

McGonagall wasn't entirely surprised to see Severus in her office. "I've decided to stay, Minerva. Merlin knows that dimwit that was here last year did enough damage in my absence. I'd hate to see the potions program here completely go to pot."

She gave him a very knowing look, and shook his hand with a smile. "Glad to have you back, Severus."

"I will need new rooms, however. The overwhelming melodramatic hero-obsessed Gryffindor drama going on around me is giving me tension headaches."

McGonagall smiled a particularly evil smile. "Did I forget to tell you? We had rooms open up in Slytherin a couple days after you moved into Gryffindor tower. It must have completely slipped my mind." She felt an odd satisfaction at the remarkable shade of red Severus' face changed, noticing that he was almost matching Gryffindor's chosen color. For the first time since she'd met him, he was speechless. He turned and stalked out of her office as angrily as he could, slamming the door and yelling at a hapless student who was in his way.

"Good to have you back, little Raven." She said quietly, using her pet name for Severus from his student days. "This place just wouldn't be the same without you." Her day was always better after a good silly row with him, and she suspected he enjoyed it as much as she did.

ssss

Lupin was growing very annoyed with Harry and Hermione. He shifted to try to get a more comfortable position on the awkward train seat. His first semester back at Hogwarts, and he was stuck in a train with two excitable new teachers. He hated train sentry duty. They babbled about lesson plans and special projects as if they had created the whole idea of teaching altogether. He was glad to see they were speaking again, but wished they had chosen a better time to get re-acquainted.

"Would you two mind?" he asked as politely as he could manage. "I need some sleep."

Harry felt guilty. "Sorry Remus. Not feeling well?"

"Too close to the full moon." He noticed that Harry looked better than the last time he'd seen the boy. He had lost weight, and looked far too thin, but he had a good color to his face, and wore his hair in an attractive long style, unbound and flowing. Hermione, of course, looked the same as always. She was too much the scholar to waste time with vanity.

Just as he finally managed to fall asleep, the train was violently jolted by an explosion. The trio was tossed all over the cabin, and Lupin hit his head on the door and was knocked unconscious. Harry was the first to recover. He could see a precipice out the window, over which the train leaned dangerously. He heard students crying, and a few screaming in pain. He checked on Hermione, who was beginning to move, despite a broken arm. "We've got to get the students out. I'll go towards the front, you head toward the back."

Before he could leave the cabin, however, he heard the groaning of over-stressed metal and felt the train tip farther. He could tell it was going over, and yelled, "Everyone, levitate the train, now!" He heard a number of older students cast the spell, and felt the train stop its sliding movement.

"Now what?" Hermione asked. "We can't let the spell go."

Harry had no plan, and searched frantically for any spell that might save them. They held the train for five minutes as he suggested various plans to Hermione, none of which would work. Finally, the students who were injured could no longer hold the spell, and it was left to about ten students and the teachers to hold the train. Lupin joined his magic with the others when he awakened. The train began to slip again, despite the increased concentration of the casters.

Suddenly, the window grew dark as two enormous claws surrounded the entire cabin. They punctured the metal and glass easily, spraying Hermione with glass shards. She screamed, grabbed her eye, and jumped away from the wall. Harry hoped her eye wasn't badly injured.

The creature, whatever it was, lifted the train section that was hanging over the edge of the cliff and set it carefully on the ground next to the ruined tracks. Harry was knocked to the floor by the movement, but was uninjured. He saw the claws disappear, and a great green eye almost as large as the window peek in. Their protector stepped away from the train, and Harry saw that it was a large, green dragon. A great rumbling voice filled the cabin. "Send an owl to McGonagall. I'll help with the healing." Harry saw the great eye disappear. He moved to the window, hoping to see the dragon more clearly, but he only saw a petite Chinese woman heading toward the train. He could only hope she meant well, and hadn't saved them for some reason other than idealistic helpfulness.

A student's owl was sent, and help arrived in only thirty minutes. During that time, Harry and Hermione both noted the mystery woman's power with healing magic. When the healers and teachers arrived, they took over the task of handling the many injured students, and the adult victims were left together, shuffled aside and told to "stay here", as if they were troublesome children instead of teachers. As she was healing Hermione's eye, the newcomer said, "Not quite the way I expected to begin the new school year."

Hermione shook hands with her. "I'm Hermione Granger, the new Arithmancy teacher. That's quite an animagus form you have there. What was that?"

"It's a Chiung-Ku dragon. I'm Cho Chang, but I usually go by Drakia, for obvious reasons."

Hermione looked suspicious. "I've never heard of a dragon animagus form. It's supposed to be impossible to sustain the power necessary to hold such a large form."

"Theoretically, yes. All I can tell you is that it takes very little magical power to switch between forms, and none to hold onto the dragon form."

Lupin's head jerked around, and his eyes narrowed. He was behind Cho, and was sniffing the air carefully.

Harry was curious. "Are you any relation to a Cho Chang that graduated Hogwarts last year?"

"I don't have any relations outside China that I know of."

Harry decided he liked her soft accent, and he definitely liked her willowy figure and long black hair and dark eyes. Since things hadn't worked out with Ginny… "I'm the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher. What will you teach?"

"Unarmed non-magical spontaneous combat, which is a complicated way of saying street fighting. Professor Dumbledore sent for me shortly before he died. He seemed to think the students should be prepared for combat in a magic-restricted area, or in case an opponent disarmed them. I was sorry to hear about his death. He was badly needed." She stopped when she saw the distress on Harry's face. "I'm sorry, you were close to him."

"Very. Excuse me please; I need to see about transportation for the students." He stumbled over broken ground, trying to get away from the thoughts of Dumbledore. Remus followed him.

"Harry, we need to talk."

"Not now Lupin. We can get all emotional later. Right now let's get everyone back to Hogwarts."

Lupin was hurt. Harry was never rude to him. "It's about Professor Chang; I don't trust her."

"Why not? She did save us." Harry was suspicious of her himself, but then he was suspicious of everyone these days. Maybe he was overreacting.

"The wind changed while we were talking. I had moved upwind to avoid the blood smells from the students, but when it shifted, I could smell her."

"And?"

"And she smells wrong. I can't really explain it. I've smelled it before, once, in the forbidden forest, but I can't quite place the smell. It's a fey smell, though."

"We'll just have to keep an eye on her then." Not that that would be difficult. She was easy to look at.

ssss

The welcome feast wasn't as joyous as it had been in past years. Twenty students were on required bed rest, and the rest were shaken by the attack on the train. McGonagall took her place as headmistress, and rose to address the children. She did the customary welcome with the warnings about the forest and the various campus restrictions. "I have good news, students. You will be relieved to hear that the aurors investigating this morning's happenings have given a finding of accident and not an attack." The relief in the great hall was palpable. "It seems that a boiler gave out and exploded, sending a shock wave through the cabins. A notice has been sent to all students' parents, that next year there will be an entirely new train engine, with redundant safety systems."

"And now, we have several new and returned professors. Professor Granger will be teaching Arithmancy, and Professor Potter will be our new Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher." She missed the glare that Harry got from Snape, but Harry didn't miss it, and enjoyed his victory immensely. There was polite clapping from the students. "Professor Chang will be teaching Unarmed non-magical spontaneous combat, also called street fighting for those of you raised in non-magical homes."

"Also, we have two returning professors. Professor Lupin will be taking Professor Sprout's herbology classes, as she has accepted an appointment at an American University." More polite applause.

"And we have Professor Snape back as our Potions Master. Welcome back Severus." All the teachers were shocked by the students' reaction. They cheered and applauded loudly, finally giving him a standing ovation. A few Slytherins actually jumped up on their table and yelled loudly. Snape looked as if he wanted to crawl under the table. McGonagall wondered if he might actually try. When the ruckus calmed down, McGonagall began the feast, and everyone began to eat except for Snape. He simply toyed with his food a bit, and left at the first opportunity.

Madame Hooch noticed. "What's up with Snarky?" she asked McGonagall.

"It would seem he's shy suddenly. How strange." She turned to her treacle tart and wondered how a Slytherin who had craved power and notoriety had become such a recluse. _Modesty_? she wondered. _Not bloody likely_. She kept her thoughts to herself though.

Professor Chang watched him leave and wondered about this odd man. He was obviously of Dark Elven descent, and had an air about him of restraint and power. _It's been too long since I've dealt with Elf-kin. I'll have to speak with this professor Snape,_ she thought. She enjoyed the meal, especially the complexity of the spells used to produce the seamless service. As she tuned her mind to the magic of the place, she saw the energies around her dance and weave in careful magic. She was so entranced by the exotic beauty of the castle's magic, that McGonagall had to repeat herself to get her attention. "How do you prefer to be called by the faculty? Professor Chang or Cho?"

"Drakia, actually."

"I see, because of the animagus form?"

"It does tend to be my most noticeable feature."

"I would really like to see that sometime." McGonagall was jealous. A dragon-form!

ssss

That night, Severus spent a long time just looking at himself in the mirror, trying to decide exactly what it was he was seeing. Death Eater? Savior? Hero? Scum? He really only identified with the last. He had felt such guilt at the students hero-worship. At first, he had loved the power and attention he had gained after killing Voldemort, but he couldn't get over the feeling that he was being watched. Now that he had attained the Slytherin ideal of power, he found that he didn't like the attention. He much preferred lurking in the shadows to being spotlighted. It had been much easier just to be hated; he understood hatred.

He rubbed the scar on his arm where the Dark Mark had been, and smashed his fist into the mirror, cutting himself across the knuckles. The physical pain relieved him somewhat, and he spent several minutes watching the blood swirl with the water in the sink before the sink drained magically. He healed his hand, not bothering about the scar left across his knuckles and turned into bed, although he knew he wouldn't sleep. He had too much to think about.

The next day was much better. Severus took advantage of the students' study hall time to find his way to the teacher's lounge. Other than his dungeons, it was his favorite spot on campus. The teachers tended to gather there in small groups while the unlucky professors stuck with study hall suffered through. It was a small, somewhat dingy area hidden in the bottom floor of the castle (literally hidden; only professors could see it). He was glad to see that no one had thrown out his old beat-up armchair in the corner niche between the soda machine and the wall. The teachers had called it Severus' corner, and only he used it. It was the one place he could enjoy being around the other teachers, because there was an unwritten rule that the teacher's lounge was a quiet place. They weren't so bad when they weren't talking constantly.

As he entered, he saw Lupin in an overstuffed chair near the window, taking a fitful nap. He always needed more sun after the full moon. He looked ill. Severus felt a stab of pity. _Pity_? he wondered. _For him? What's wrong with me? Next I'll be hugging Gryffindors_.

Severus had been acting odd lately, even for him. He seemed to be changing somehow, and at times felt like he had little or no control over what he said. He had actually found himself admiring the work of a particularly annoying Gryffindor, and praised her for her paper, even as another part of his mind wanted to shout at her for her Gryffindorness. He wondered if he was finally getting the remains of Voldemort out of his system. That mark may have had more of an effect on his will than he had realized. What if this was who he had been meant to be? He'd never had a chance to choose. His mother had told him from an early age that he would serve a great lord of darkness. She had a talent for prediction, apparently.

His thoughts were broken by the entrance of Professor Chang. She entered quietly and transfigured a chair about four feet away from him and sat down gracefully, smiled at him, said "Good afternoon, Professor Snape," and began grading papers silently – in his corner! He was uncomfortable. No one had ever invaded his personal space here, and he didn't quite know how to take it. She didn't bother him, however, but simply worked on her papers. After a few minutes, he did the same, and discovered that he liked being close to someone who could work quietly. There was camaraderie about it he wasn't used to. She seemed to exhibit a calming presence, and he wondered if it was accidental or purposeful. He was actually sad that the two-hour study hall passed so quickly.

That night he began to have disturbing dreams, vague nightmares about someone forcing something magical into his mind. He began to wake up with headaches, which grew progressively worse over the week. He tried a few pain-relief potions, to no avail. He wouldn't go to Poppy, though. She was just too annoying.

The highlight of his days became the daily study hall periods. Although he knew she wouldn't notice him, Severus began to wash his hair more regularly, and even used a special spell to keep the potion fumes from making it look so greasy. He tied it back with a black silk ribbon and decided he liked not looking like a Death Eater quite so much. He noticed for the first time that he wore shabby clothes. He had always thought of his robes as functional, but maybe it was time for a change. Unfortunately, there was nothing to be done about the nose.

The only time Drakia interrupted his work was entirely by accident. She was wearing a robe cut in the new fashion, cut slightly above the knees, which showed off perfectly formed legs. He caught himself staring, and turned back to his papers. He must have made some noise, because Drakia looked up. "Yes, Severus?"

"Nothing, I was just distracted by your legs." Severus panicked and turned beet red. Why had he just said that? He hadn't wanted to say that at all. It almost seemed as if he had lost complete control for a moment. "Sorry," he stammered, "I have a headache." He tried to hide behind his papers and rubbed his head where it hurt, slightly behind the temple. He seemed to say the oddest things when he had these headaches.

Drakia moved her chair closer. "Can I help? I am a good healer after all."

He wanted to say no, but instead said, "Yes, please." He began to feel that his mouth was a traitor. She smiled, took his hand, and placed her other hand lightly on the spot he had been rubbing. He decided this was one of the oddest days in his life. Here he was, staring into the eyes of one of the most beautiful women he'd ever met, and it was her idea. He knew McGonagall was across the room, watching with amusement, but he didn't care.

She frowned a bit, and mumbled to herself. He heard her say, "This isn't right," and then waves of incredible pain shot through his head. Image after image of his childhood shot through his head at lightning speed, and then of Voldemort and the Death Eaters. He heard Drakia calling his name from a distance, but he was unable to respond. He could feel McGonagall's strong hands lower him to the floor – he knew those motherly hands well by now – and then there was nothing but darkness.

After Severus stopped convulsing, McGonagall turned on Drakia. "What did you do to him?" she yelled, and reached for her wand.

Drakia held her hands up in a non-combatant gesture. "Nothing. I swear it! He said he had a headache, and I was going to heal it for him, but it's not a headache. It's more like a wound of some sort in his magic. We can discuss this later. He needs help." She looked away from McGonagall, and checked his breathing and pulse. "I don't like his breathing. It's shallow." She used her magic to stabilize him, matching his breathing to hers, and giving him energy and strength. He settled into something more like a natural sleep, and they took him to the hospital wing.

When Severus awoke in the hospital bed, Drakia was holding his hand and mumbling to herself again. This time there wasn't any pain, just an odd numbness in the right side of his head. He realized she must have been blocking nerves to keep him from feeling whatever she was doing. She noticed he was awake, and smiled. "Good. I was getting worried, Severus. You sure do know how to get a lady's attention."

"Veela," he mumbled.

"Veela?"

"You must be a veela, to have this affect on me." He realized what he had said. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

She laughed. "It's ok. The problem is located near your impulse control center of your magic, which is why you've been a little off kilter lately. Actually, I'm flattered."

"What problem?" His head buzzed and he wanted to sleep, but he felt her give him some of her strength, which kept him awake.

"There's a wound in your magic, an old one. I could only look superficially while you were asleep. I stopped the bleeding, but the tumor needs to be removed."

"Tumor? In my magic core?"

"That's the best I can describe it. I need to get a close look. I'll try not to hurt you, but I don't know what we're dealing with."

"I trust you." He saw the shocked look on McGonagall's face. Again, something he hadn't meant to say, but it was true. For some reason, he did trust her.

He felt her presence in his mind, and fought the instinct to occlude her. She pressed gently at the wound, trying its boundaries and looking to see the extent of the damage. The nerve block kept him from feeling pain, but he was quickly exhausted and fell into a semi-conscious state.

She looked sad when he awakened, and McGonagall had obviously been crying. "Is it that bad?"

"Severus, someone placed a curse on you when you were five years old. I don't know the exact curse used yet, but it looks like someone placed a compulsion on you. It looks a lot like the Imperius curse, with a few tweaks. There was a death clause."

"Death clause?" He felt cold suddenly. Death clauses were usually used for assassins or spies, so that if they were captured, their magical core would rupture, killing them quickly before they could be interrogated. "I should be dead then."

"It seems that your own magic fought the death clause, keeping you alive until now. The magic released should have ruptured your entire magic core, but instead you seem to have isolated it into a small tumor. You're an unusually powerful wizard. Most people would have died immediately. I managed to neutralize the magic at work, and we can start to remove the curse so I can heal the wound. I'll probably be seeing some memories and thoughts you might not want known. It can't be helped."

"I understand. Let's get on with it."

He felt her fingers in his mind again, this time prying carefully around the edges of the foreign matter in his magical core. As she worked, he relived the memory of the curse, and knew that she saw it too.

ssss

Severus saw his parents in his childhood home. His father was sitting by the fire, reading a muggle newspaper in his threadbare robe. When the clock struck seven, his mother stood. "Come, Severus, time for lessons."

"No! I don't want to!" He wailed. "I'm a good boy. I don't want those lessons."

His father stomped out of the room. She grabbed him by the arm. "You will learn, little snake. I have seen your future. You are fated to serve a great dark master, and I will have you ready for him. It's my way out of this dung-hole, and you will do what I say!"

The adult Severus tried to fight his way out of those visions, but stopped when he heard Drakia's reassuring voice. "It's ok. I'm right here. Don't fight me, or the healing will be incomplete and you might die. I won't leave you; I promise."

He relaxed as much as he was able and braced himself for what was to come. He saw his mother call a house elf, and order her to stand still. "Now, Sevvie," she said gently, "do what mummy taught you.

"No!" he yelled, and began to cry. "I love Blonky. I don't want to hurt Blonky."

She kissed him on the head in a horrible parody of love. "It's ok, baby. It's just a house-elf. I'll steal you another one. I promise. Ok now, do it with me … Avada Kedavra." Blonky shook with fear but didn't move, being an exceptionally obedient elf. Nothing happened though. His mother had just said the words, not cast the spell.

Severus just stood and cried loudly. "Ok, that's it." His mother said. "I hate to resort to this but, Imperio." He stopped crying and waited. "There now. Do what mummy told you."

Drakia had to fight to keep control as she saw the young Severus calmly kill his only friend because of his mother's Imperious curse. She wondered if that woman were alive to seek revenge against.

Severus' mother released him from the curse and he began to cry again. She took him in her arms and shushed him gently. "There, there. You are a good boy. You would have made a good Gryffindor someday, but we can't have that now, can we?" She held him up so that he was standing on her legs and looking her in the face. "Mummy has to leave here Sevvie, and you're the only one that can make that happen. Someday you'll serve a great lord. I've seen it. You'll come and get mummy, and the great lord will take care of us."

She stunned him, and then cast a curse so evil Drakia had to stop working for a moment to steady herself, holding the magical extension of her fingers in place deep in Severus' mind. She was almost finished with the procedure.

His mother twisted part of her son's mind, changing his natural desires to fit hers. Now he was no longer little Sevvie. He was Severus, the future dark wizard. Drakia felt the foreign desires enter his mind, as his natural child's affection and love was shoved deeply into his mind. The last part of the curse had been a simple "Obliviate," which was why Severus had no memory of the entire incident. The memories had been buried deep in his mind, and surfaced with the rest of the curse after he had betrayed Voldemort. She could feel McGonagall calm Severus' heart rate and breathing, and went back to the final part of the operation, untangling the messy magical tumor from his core being, and beginning to heal the damage.

When it was finished, Severus decided that even Crucio aftereffects didn't feel this bad. He remembered everything now, how his mother had betrayed him and placed a mutated version of the imperious curse on him, compelling him to seek out the Dark Arts and a dark master when he was older. She had even placed a death clause, so that if he betrayed his lord, he would die quickly, so that he couldn't take revenge. She had assumed the only way he could break the curse would be to know it was there, and then he would come after her for placing it in his mind.

McGonagall and Drakia watched anxiously. Poppy stood close by, with calming potions and pepper-up potions, because she thought he would need one or the other. All three women waited to see if his mind had survived the ordeal. He didn't move, just starred with vacant eyes. "Did I ruin him completely?" Drakia wondered. She felt nauseous. He was a strong man, with a good heart, if a dark one. She could feel it. He deserved better than this.

He sat up and looked around him. Drakia and McGonagall sat on opposite sides of the bed, looking very worried. Poppy was close by, hovering like she always did. He probed himself mentally, carefully assessing the damage. The actual damage was smaller than it had seemed at first. Infection had made it seem larger. For the first time in his life, he realized why he had felt so driven both to seek out darkness and light at the same time. He let out a great sigh of relief. He wasn't evil, or at least now he had the option to choose. All these years he had thought he was just as evil as Voldemort, only to find that he had no choice in the matter. Then it sunk in – the sheer volume of manipulation in his life. Who was he? Could he ever be the person he was meant to be, or was the chance for that life gone forever? Gryffindor? Bloody Gryffindor? There was too much to think about, and his tired mind refused to work anymore.

McGonagall had been watching carefully. At first, Severus' eyes had been vacant, and she was afraid they had lost him. Then she had seen the calculating look he generally had when working on a complex problem, and knew that at least he was alive mentally. He didn't speak, and that worried her. Finally, he blinked and looked around him, and did something he hadn't done since he was a child. He buried his face in McGonagall's shoulder and just let her hold him.

He didn't cry, but he shook uncontrollably. She held him until he quit shaking and he lay back on the bed, falling asleep immediately. She moved some stray hair out of his eyes, and cast a special spell she had designed just for him when he was little. It allowed the sleeper to feel the love of his friends and family upon waking. She hoped it would help, but it had always been a bit weak in his case, because there were so few people who loved the obnoxious child. She had used it on many other students, but she always thought of it as Severus' spell. She remembered suddenly that only a few months ago she might have killed him in cold blood because she thought he had murdered Dumbledore, and felt the need for some serious introspection.

He hadn't been a Death Eater for nothing, however. He displayed the stamina he had earned through years of surviving the twin strains of Voldemort's torture and spying for Dumbledore. In two days, he was up and teaching his full course load. At first, he was uncomfortable around Drakia, but her natural social poise put him at ease, and he began to enjoy the first honest friendship since his times with Dumbledore and Lilly. He knew that it would take years to come to terms with what had happened to him, if not the rest of his life. With the tumor gone, however, he was free to be the Severus he was meant to be, without the contradictory pull towards darkness his mother had instilled in him. Although, he wondered briefly, what if she hadn't entirely instilled that desire in him, but only recognized the potential for evil? He decided only time would tell.

ssss

Harry however wasn't doing so well. He was still grieving Dumbledore's loss, as well as dealing with the aftereffects of the physical and emotional battles he had been fighting since his youth.

A first year student wandered by him in a corridor, chatting happily to her friends about how the dreamy Ravenclaw seeker had actually said hello to her at breakfast. Harry wanted to curse her for her annoying cheeriness, and felt a little satisfaction at the thought of a very surprised student trying to explain that to her friends.

_That's no good_, he thought. _Maybe I should take McGonagall up on that shrink she offered_. He decided it wasn't a good idea, though. He didn't need one more person prowling around in his head. Between the scar's connection with Voldemort, and his botched Occlumancy lessons where Snape had been inside his mind entirely too much, it was getting far too crowded in there. "If this keeps up, I'll have to start charging rent for head-space," he growled to no one in particular.

He thought he was a fairly good teacher, for a rookie. He had developed a curriculum that he felt was a good mix of theory and practicality, with more dangerous assignments as the ages of the students progressed.

The ministry had a royal fit over some of his teaching methods, especially when a senior member's son complained to his mother about being subjected briefly to the pru-cruciatus curse. Harry had designed a much weaker version of the unforgivable Cruciatus curse, designed specifically for teaching purposes. Harry defended his actions, by explaining that they needed to understand the cruciatus curse to understand the need to avoid using it. It wasn't technically unforgivable, so he barely avoided Azkaban, with McGonagall's help and his own charisma.

He was on a short leash, and he knew it. His students didn't like him, and many actively feared him. At first, that had bothered Harry, but he learned to dismiss their actions. He was teaching them how to save their own lives. It didn't matter if they hated him or loved him; what mattered in the long run was whether or not he had prepared them for a meeting with Death Eaters. Just because Voldemort was dead didn't mean evil took a vacation. His followers had taken up revenge as a hobby, and if Harry had anything to say about it, they wouldn't get one of his students easily. He took the burden of teaching very seriously.

ssss

The semester went along fairly smoothly, with the only emergencies being the type that regularly happen at large schools: a bad run of the flu, a small fire in the Slytherin dorm by a pyromaniac, and a run-away Ice Toad from Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures class. It didn't do much damage, but several students had to go to the hospital wing with minor frostbite injuries.

Harry did have problems with the heads of the houses, and he had an especially difficult time with Snape. He had already been approached five times with practically the same argument following.

"Potter, you need to control yourself with the students in that chaos you call a classroom. I've had two injured students from my house this week, and there was no need to take a total of 150 points from Slytherin for minor infractions."

"Firstly, it's _Professor_ Potter now, and secondly, how I teach isn't your business."

"It's my business when you unfairly target my house for revenge for imagined injuries." He knew that the imagined part wasn't entirely true, but Potter was out of line.

"Imagined? You and Draco made my life hell, you bloody git! And I'm not getting revenge. Your house is made up of uncooperative, self-centered, sanctimonious students who regularly put other students in danger. Someone needs to keep them in check, before they cause some serious damage here."

Snape smirked at Harry. "That's amusing, _Professor_ Potter. I seem to remember making the exact same arguments to the headmistress when she was the head of house for Gryffindor. She didn't think much of my opinions, but at least I wasn't a hypocritical brat posing as a saint. Your façade is getting tarnished, Potter."

Harry was furious. "How dare you? I should curse you into next week for that!"

Snape's manner changed completely, as he dropped the teasing manner and became suddenly predatory. "Is that a challenge to a wizard's duel?"

Harry stopped, surprised at the question. He hadn't intended his grudge to carry him this far, but now he felt committed. "Yes, actually. It is."

"Very well, not during the school year, however. The students do need their Defense Against the Dark Arts training, and they can't keep up with their studies when you're dead. The 26th of December works for me. That way you can have one last Christmas with your precious friends."

In the back of his mind, he remembered Albus' words in his letter, asking him to make peace with Harry. _I'm sorry, Albus_, he thought. _I just don't think I can do it_. He would do one thing for his dead friend, however.

He put on his best condescending look, one that he saved just for Gryffindors. "For Albus' sake, I won't actually kill you, just humiliate you, and maybe disfigure the face - give you a few more scars to pull attention away from the mommy-killing one. It's a pity to mess that face up, though. You finally got over the acne."

Harry was so mad he was shaking. "Until then, stay out of my way. I'd hate to have to explain to the headmistress why she had to hire a new Potions Master so late in the semester."

Snape ignored the childish jibe. "I'll have the proper forms owled to you from the Ministry of Magic, so I'm not charged for murder after the duel. I've done this nine times before, so I know all the procedures. Until then, I suggest you work on your spell casting. Without your precious friends around, you lose your advantage."

He spun and walked from Harry's office, noticing as he stepped into the corridor that he didn't feel much better, even though he was about to finally have revenge on James Potter. He could hear Albus' voice in his head, repeating a lesson he'd constantly tried to teach Severus when he was younger. "Revenge is for the weak, Severus. A strong man lives his life on his own terms, and when you abandon yourself to the urge to destroy, you become the slave of those urges. It will eat you like acid, boy. You must learn to forgive to survive."

Severus shook his head to try to clear the thoughts. _I'm leaving him alive for you, old man. That's the best I can do for now_. He considered himself generous for avoiding the temptation to kill Potter outright. He would even have legal protection once the papers were signed. He was passing up a legitimate use of power. Surely that was enough? He thought warily that he was behaving in a very Gryffindor manner by even considering a dead man's wishes when they conflicted so much with his own needs.

Snape was changing over time; he could feel it. Only a year ago, Potter wouldn't have made it alive to his next class if he'd pushed the Slytherin so hard, and no one would have ever found the body. Severus was well acquainted with the whims of the fates, and only hoped they waited until after the duel to toy with him more than they already had. The last thing he needed was to have an attack of conscience when his lifelong dream of beating James Potter was finally in his grasp.

Like his mother, however, Snape had a bit of a sporadic gift for seeing. He had a sneaking suspicion the duel would never take place, at least not in the socially accepted manner. He could only hope it would be because Potter got himself killed prematurely, and not because he called off the duel himself due to his annoyingly awakening conscience.

After he watched Snape leave with his best bat-like cape flourish, Harry said to himself, "so much for our truce. I'd better start training soon."

It never once occurred to Snape that he might lose the duel.

ssss

McGonagall let Cawling McDewlish, a flustered second year Gryffindor student into her office. "Yes, Mr. McDewlish? Calm yourself." She summoned a glass of water for him, which he ignored.

"You have to come immediately, Headmistress. You've been summoned by Firenze, and he's on Hogwarts' grounds."

"Firenze, here?" She hurried to the edge of the forest, where she saw the centaur standing a few feet outside the forest edge. It was either a blatant disregard for treaties between humans and the forest folk, or he had come here to treat with her formally. Potter and Lupin were there also, and had sent the students back to their dorms for their own safety. Firenze would only speak to her, however.

He bowed to her when she arrived. She recognized the gesture. It was the way centaurs began negotiation, and meant that this conversation was meant to be a formal exchange of terms. "I ask to treat with you, human headmistress, about the terms of our agreement concerning the school of wizards and the forest of fey."

She tried to remember the proper formulas for such an exchange. "I welcome the noble centaur. May we and thee come to a proper agreement. What do you seek from the humans?" The bizarre formality of the conversation was annoying, but a necessary concession for centuries, perhaps millennia of centaur tradition.

"I have been sent as delegate for She-Who-Will-Not-Be-Known, our new mistress." His tail swished angrily, and McGonagall noticed that he seemed extremely tense, and very angry.

"I was not aware that the centaurs had any mistresses or masters. It was this human's understanding that the centaurs of the dark forest were a sort of patriarchal clan."

"She is not of our choosing, but that is another matter. She claims dominance over the forest and all the fey living within a two day travel of said forest. She has sent me to inform you that the denizens of the dark forest offer their aid to the headmistress of the wizzarding school in your war against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. For her own reasons, She-Who-Will-Not-Be-Known requires you to pass your requests through me."

McGonagall was floored. "That is very admirable, noble centaur, but He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is dead. I saw his death myself."

Firenze just shook his head. "I have been told of those events by She. There was a mistake. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is only gone, but definitely not dead. The potion used to kill him did nothing. It's no different than when he was in the Quirrel-wizard. His soul has just been floating and seeking out his horcruxes. He has been detected in the woods by She."

"Detected? Please explain."

"She has said that a dark spirit is in the forest, prowling for a body to inhabit. His spirit-shape has taken over the great snake Nagili, and is known among the forest reptiles as The-Destroyer-Snake. She speaks to them of conquest and victory, and can only be He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. All flee The-Destroyer-Snake, because she has strong magical powers, and can use some human magic."

"How can she do magic with no wand?"

"Nagili is a strong snake, and before she was taken by force, she was a protector of the forest. He uses her magic, and a bit of his own. My mistress sends word to you, headmistress, that she will help you defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and asks a boon of you."

_Here it comes_, she thought. _The other shoe drops_.

"What boon does your mistress seek of me?"

"She wishes your help to save the great snake Nagili from the one who claims her body, if possible, and she asks that you heal those forest creatures injured in the coming battles as you would your own students. In addition, she requires that those unable to fight will be protected by the human allies should the need arise. She also asks that when the war is over, you respect her position as Mistress of the Forest. She seeks you as an ally, headmistress."

"I have to get the decisions of the other professors, centaur. I will return to you with my answer as soon as I am able."

"She told me not to return without an answer. I await your return."

She hurried to call an emergency staff meeting, leaving Firenze with Harry and Lupin. He would only tell Harry briefly, "I can only speak to the headmistress until negotiations are concluded. It is the way such things have been done for ages, young one." He looked at Lupin with undisguised disgust. "I wouldn't be able to speak freely in front of such as _him_, anyway."

Lupin turned and walked away. He was used to being insulted for his illness, and had learned long ago that there was no point in arguing with those who didn't want to see him for anything other than a monster, but it still stung slightly.

When McGonagall returned, she consulted briefly with Harry, and bowed properly again, as did Firenze. "Please give your mistress this message. The humans at the wizard school will help her reclaim Nagili, if possible, and welcome her alliance. We agree to almost all of her conditions, but we cannot promise her our help to secure the forest as her realm. That will have to be further discussed at a later date."

Firenze returned to the forest, and McGonagall returned to the school. _Great_, she thought. _ Just what we need, another self-styled ruler_.

ssss

Professor Snape spent the next two weeks trying to work up the courage to ask Drakia to the Halloween Ball. He had never felt so nervous in his life. The few girlfriends he had in school were the result of Slytherin ambitions. He was a powerful wizard, even then, and some of the less powerful pureblood witches who couldn't afford a good dowry saw marriage with a future powerful wizard from a strong bloodline as a good political move. His mother had re-married after his muggle father's suspicious death, and it was commonly believed that Severus was the son of Sonorous Snape. She had taken his name, and saddled Severus with the hateful moniker. Very few people knew of his real father.

His relationships weren't romantic, and his mother was usually approached in a very businesslike manner by their parents. None of the relationships lasted very long, however. Apparently, the girls would rather be poor than deal with his sour demeanor.

He finally bought a new robe, (which was just like the others he owned, only new) and decided to take the risk.

"I'm sorry, Severus, but Harry already asked me, and I told him I'd go with him."

"Potter?" He was floored. "What can you possibly see in that self-absorbed little prat?"

She frowned. "He didn't wait so long to ask me, is what I see in him. A lady doesn't like to be kept waiting. Anyway, he's a nice enough boy. I don't know why you have such a problem with him. He's fairly harmless."

"You have no idea how harmful he is."

"Jealousy is hardly an attractive trait."

"I have to teach, now." He stormed out, bumping into Harry in the hallway. "Eavesdropping again Potter?"

"I hear such interesting things around you Professor." Harry smiled broadly. "Woman trouble?"

"Not after December 26th."

"Until then, Professor Snape." Harry nodded his head in mock civility. Snape growled and stomped off to class. The third year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had a bad time of it that day. Halfway through the class, he felt his arm burn, directly where the Dark Mark had been. He grabbed his arm. "Class dismissed," he hissed through clenched teeth. No one moved. "Go, now!" They left quickly, and he headed to McGonagall's office.

The Dark Mark was back, although oddly enough, it was a dark pink color now instead of black. Apparently, Voldemort had found a new human body. Severus could only hope he wasn't as strong as the last time he had returned.

ssss

"I'm Draco Malfoy, distinguished heir of the Malfoy Estates, Death Eater,…" He tried to pump himself up in his mind, but it was hard to feel very dignified when he'd just pissed his trousers. His one comforting thought was that that slut Ginny was finally getting what she deserved. Even Dumbledore hadn't suspected that Voldemort would use her as a Horcrux while he possessed her years ago. It had been an exceptionally dangerous gamble that had paid off very well. He had used two more of them now, however – one in Nagili, and one in Ginny. After he had transferred himself from the snake to Ginny, Nagili had escaped in the confusion of Death Eaters trying to prove their loyalty to their master, and she was probably a long way away by now.

The girl who had been Ginny Weasley laughed and stopped her Crucio curse. She wrinkled her nose at the smell and cast a cleansing spell on the boy. "Get up."

Draco stood unsteadily. No one helped him, and he felt unbelievably alone and vulnerable. He wished Snape were here. There was an outside chance he might help Draco again, but Snape had betrayed the Dark Lady, and now Draco would never see his mentor again. Draco bowed to his tormentor. "How may I serve you, my lord – er- lady?" Voldemort laughed, a pretty girlish laugh, oddly enough.

"A little late for that, little Malfoy. I just need to decide, shall I have you meet your father's fate, or design one specifically for you? After all, I have a reputation to uphold."

Bellatrix spoke up, after approaching the throne and bowing. "My lady, perhaps I could punish him? He did disgrace the family after all."

Voldemort ruffled her hair as if she was a favorite dog. Bellatrix was visually pleased, and Draco felt nauseous. "No, Bella. You can't have this one. I need to make an example of him." She turned to Draco. "You have one month to redeem yourself. Your father has been released from Azkaban," Draco looked up, shocked at the news. "I suggest you work with him to save both of your worthless hides. Yes, he's released. Money achieves much, but fear achieves much more, little Malfoy."

She turned to the other Death Eaters. "See my pity? I allow his life for one month, so that you can see my merciful nature. Now, Crucio." Draco tried to ponder the irony of Voldemort using the word mercy, focusing on it to distance himself from the pain. He didn't know when he started screaming the word, but it caused Voldemort the greatest amusement.

Just before she apparated, she told Draco, "Succeed, and I will allow you to live as the least of my servants, but fail me again, and every member of your family will die."

Draco lay still, allowing the cold stone floor to cool his hot skin. _Father is coming back_! he thought. There was no doubt in his mind that his powerful sire could fix all of this.

ssss

Lucius Malfoy wasn't the protector Draco had hoped for. When he stumbled through the door, he headed toward his room, with Narcissa close behind, and threw his skeletal form on the bed. Through the open door, Draco saw his once powerful father spread across the bed, fully clothed, while his mother tried to pull off his shoes for him.

He ordered the house elves to make a simple broth for his father, feeling a bit of relief as he cast Crucio on a slow elf. He sat outside the room, listening to his mother cry quietly as his father snored.

Finally, Narcissa stepped out of the room and closed the door quietly. "Draco, let's get some coffee, dear." He was surprised that they went to the kitchen instead of the dining room. He hadn't eaten in the kitchen since he was a child, and was forced to eat there while still learning his table manners. She must be really shaken to prefer the comfort of the servant area to the formality of the dining table.

"Draco," she began, and he saw all the softness go from her face, leaving her once again the matriarch of the clan. He understood. It was business time, and that meant the time for family softness was gone. He pushed down his own feelings so he could deal with his tasks as the only heir. "Your father won't be able to help you, obviously. Do you have a plan?"

"Kill Potter."

"Something more concrete than that, I hope. The future of the entire Malfoy clan rests on you."

"I'll hide out in the forbidden forest. Potter always ended up there when we were in school. I'll just wait him out."

"It's not much of a plan."

"I'll try to sneak into Hogwarts. It's the only one I've got, and we'll just have to make do."

He stayed two days, to make sure his father was going to live. Lucius wouldn't allow healers to see to him, which wasn't surprising. He would rather die than have outsiders see him in such a weakened state. Before Draco left, he went to his father's bedside.

"I have to leave now." Draco said, because he didn't know what else to say.

"I know, son." As he was leaving, he heard. "I'm proud of you Draco." It was the closest Lucius had ever come to telling Draco he loved him.

As he left, he stopped at the door to say goodbye to Narcissa. "My loyalties lay here, mother. I won't let you down." For a moment, he was afraid she might hug him, but she just smiled and said, "I know. You use your dagger, and I'll use our money. One of us will get what we need, little dragon."

ssss

Harry had no idea what was waiting for him in the forest. Fortunately for him, he had no reason to go there. Draco waited patiently for ten days, sure that Potter would return to his old sneaking habits. He lived on berries and fungus and grubs, drinking water from the stream near his hiding place. He began to feel panicky after ten days passed, and tried to develop a new plan. He couldn't get into Hogwarts without tripping alarms there. Someone had created a magic alarm system that he could feel whenever he approached the edge of the forest. He imagined it was probably keyed to his Dark Mark.

He grew careless, and that's when the centaur caught him. Draco barely had the chance to cast an Avada Kedavra, which hit the centaur but seemed to have no effect, before a sharp hoof sliced him across the abdomen. As he fell, he felt cheated. He hadn't even got to put up a proper fight. He was strong for a young wizard, though, and hung onto life tenaciously. As he passed in and out of consciousness, it was his family he thought of. Those thoughts kept him alive, because he knew if he died they probably would too. He used his magic to sustain himself until he could think of something.

He heard leaves crunching behind him, and knew he was finished this time. Instead of a beast of the forest, however, a woman stepped in front of him, and crouched to see him better.

She was thin, and exceptionally tall for a woman, well over seven feet. Her ears were long and pointed, so Draco assumed she was fey. She had long, dirty blond hair, and seemed to be about fifty years old, but with few wrinkles. Where her age really showed was in the gauntness of her face and in the tiredness of her green eyes. She wore a green dress, which draped to her ankles in a sort of gossamer fabric that gave the overall impression of grass and leaves. She walked barefoot, and Draco noticed that where she stepped, small while flowers sprouted.

She didn't speak for a few moments, and he waited to see what would happen. He felt an odd apathy toward his own fate.

"You seem to be in a spot of trouble, young wizard," she said. She sniffed the air, and wrinkled her nose, "Young dark wizard, I should say."

"I've got enough trouble, lady. If you're just here to judge me, I'd rather die on my own." Malfoys lived and died with dignity.

She laughed at him, and Draco was furious. How dare she? "The little dead wizard still has claws then?"

"Malfoys always have claws, forest creature." He tried to sound tough, but it didn't come across. He was too weak by now, and that made him even angrier.

"I could save you, you know."

"And I suppose you'd want me to beg you for it? No thanks. I'll just die now, and if you don't mind, I'd rather do it alone."

She ignored his angry words. "I don't usually deal with humans at all. Foolish creatures, like ants. You work so hard on your 'civilizations' and 'great projects' killing all who oppose you, human or fey, and don't even realize how pathetic your efforts are. You destroy what cannot be rebuilt. Someday the fey will rise and destroy you, as we should, little dead wizard. The revolution will come soon, dead one."

"Then why are you here? Go away. I have things to think about, and I don't have time to deal with overgrown Marxist pixies."

"The centaurs have asked me to find another servant to take their place as diplomat to the humans. They don't want to soil their hooves on human grounds. As distasteful as the idea is, I need a human servant, and I smell fey blood in you. I'd rather deal with something partly fey than a full-blooded human."

"I most certainly do not have fey blood in me! The Malfoys are an old and respected magical family – pureblood." He sank back to the ground, dizzy. His outburst had taken too much from him.

"Veela, to be precise. I would estimate you're about one quarter veela. Someone has lied to you. That's beside the point, however. I'm growing tired of this conversation. Do you accept my offer or not?"

He was about to tell her what she could do with her offer, when he remembered that his death meant his family's death as well. "I have a condition."

Now it was her turn to be off kilter. "You lie in the dirt with your intestines decorating your worthless hide and you dare to barter with me?"

"Protect my family. That's all I ask. Keep the Dark Lady from killing them and I'll serve you as long as I live."

She hissed like a snake, and spat on the ground. "The one who took Nagili from us is after your family?"

"Yes. I did serve her, but she betrayed us, and allowed my father to be imprisoned and tortured after he faithfully served her, or him at the time. I've decided to help kill her. I was trying to find a way into the school, where her enemies live. I need their help to save my family."

_Please don't let her know legimancy_, he thought frantically. He risked the lives of the entire Malfoy clan on a desperate half-truth.

"Very well. Bring them to me, and as long as they stay in the forest, I'll protect them as if they were my own wards. They must swear allegiance to me, however. If they won't serve me, they must at least swear never to act against me. And I require a death oath." Draco assumed she meant an unbreakable promise.

"I'll do it."

She healed him enough to save his life, but left him somewhat injured. "Swear to me, and take my mark, or I'll let you fertilize the trees."

"I already have a mark."

"Let me see."

He rolled up his sleeve, and showed her the dark mark. She traced it with her finger, and he felt it grow hot and burn him. The snake began to move under his skin, hissing and then screaming as she tried to remove it from him.

She finally removed her hand and looked Draco in the eye. "I can't remove it. Whatever effect it has on you is bound to your soul, and will probably be there the rest of your life. It might go away when Voldemort dies." He flinched at the name. So she wasn't powerful enough to remove his mark, but she could speak Voldemort's name without fear? Interesting. "It would have been less painful if I could remove the mark before placing my own, but…"

She rolled up his right sleeve and put her hand on his mark. He almost immediately passed out from the pain. When he awoke, he saw a green Celtic knot circling his arm, where the Dark Mark had been. The dark mark lay faded but recognizable under the new green mark. "What are you?"

"You don't need to know that. I'll call you Vel. I'd rather be reminded of your Veela blood than that human taint. I like you a bit better that way."

Draco was about to protest, but she said, "Go, Vel, and get your family. Your old master was probably alerted when I replaced her mark."

Draco moved far enough away from the Hogwart's wards to apparate, hoping he wasn't too late.

ssss

Snape and Chang formed an uneasy peace, returning to their daily routine. The ball, however, was excruciating for Snape. He had been approached by Jul Jankles, a young store assistant in a potions supply store he frequented. Apparently, his status as The-Man-Who-Killed-He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named made him romantically desirable now, or at least politically desirable. She prattled on, and he did his best to appear to listen while avoiding staring at Drakia and Harry, who seemed to be having a good time. He decided the best thing to do was be attentive to Jul, and hope Drakia noticed.

After the ball, he saw Jul home and returned to the comfort of the dungeons, where he worked on some calculations for a new potion he was designing. He didn't get much work done, though. He kept picturing Harry kissing Drakia. After a while, it bothered him enough that he quit working and just paced around his office, mumbling to himself. He wasn't sure what bothered him more, that he might have lost Drakia, or that Harry had bested him at something.

About an hour later, he heard a soft knock at the door. Drakia was there, in her everyday robes, holding an unopened bottle of expensive fire whisky. "Pax?"

"Date finished so soon?"

"I notice you're not out with the little blonde thing." Did he detect a note of jealousy in that?

"Too young for my taste. She's barely legal." He saw Drakia frown. "So where's yours?"

She laughed, a harsh bark of a sound. "Too young for my taste, actually. Handsey, too." That last part was paybacks. She knew it would bother him.

"Did he force himself on you? Because if he did, I'll…"

"Woah, Severus. No, he didn't, and I can take care of myself, thank you. Anyway, let's not talk about him." She set the bottle on the table, and transfigured two glasses. "I hate dancing."

"Me too." They spent the night discussing the latest potions theories and gossip, as well as sharing stupid student stories. It was somewhere between romance and a good friendship. She did let him quickly kiss her goodnight when she left, however.

ssss

Draco apparated into the formal reception room of Malfoy manner to a smell he was familiar with – blood.

"No!" He yelled, and sprinted toward the sounds of battle coming from his parent's bedroom. He leapt over a sprawled pile of bodies in black cloaks that were blocking the doorway, and jumped into the room, wand in hand. His heart swelled with pride at the sight of his mother fighting like a mad woman against Bellatrix Lestrange, while his emaciated father cast spell after spell around him with whip like speed. Narcissa would have been a dueling champion in school, but she had always felt that such doings were distinctly unladylike. Lucius had no such qualms, and was one of the best duelists in all of England.

"Avada Kedavra," his aunt screamed, but Narcissa was too fast to be caught, and ducked the spell effortlessly.

"Predictable as always, _dearest _sister," she teased, hoping to enrage Bellatrix. It worked. The mad witch screamed and leaped at Narcissa, only to be stopped with a simple stunner.

Crab and Goyle seniors were the only Death Eaters left of the small assault group. When Bellatrix fell, they sprinted toward the door, only to meet an enraged Draco. He opened his mount to cast the killing curse, but his Green Mark tingled, and he found himself shouting, "Entanglus!" instead. Huge ivy vines sprang though the floor and wound themselves around the attackers, binding them tightly, but leaving them alive.

"Come quickly," Draco said. "I have a safe place for us. I'll explain later." He helped Lucius out of bed, as the older Malfoy had lost what little strength he had from the fight.

Draco moved the bodies away from the door so Lucius could make it out without stumbling over them. He ran to his room and hastily threw together his most precious and practical belongings, picking only the things he couldn't do without. He noticed ironically that most of the things he chose were actually worth very little money, while he left behind priceless, useless treasures. _A little late for life lessons now_, he thought.

He went to his parent's bedroom, to find them with two suitcases each, and ready to leave. Just before they left, his mother turned back to face the three Death Eaters left alive. Bellatrix was still unconscious, and Crab and Goyle lay bound, with their mouths covered and silenced by vines. They were uselessly struggling, but when they saw Narcissa's attention focused on them, they stopped and tried to speak to her, even though they only made mumbling noises through the vines.

"Avada Kedavra," she said twice, using as little emotion as she would expend ordering her house elves to bring her slippers and The Quibbler (a secret vice). She turned and watched her sister.

"Draco, dear," she said, without moving her eyes from Belletrix, "When I wake her, could you use that handy entangling curse? I want her to feel helpless as she struggles against the vines."

Draco wasn't surprised. They couldn't admit it publicly, because she was a Death Eater, but his aunt had always been an embarrassment to the family as far as his parents were concerned. She had never directly turned against the Malfoys, however. It was the unforgivable curse in a pureblood home. Family was the sacred cow that must never be slaughtered. He shuddered as he realized Crab and Goyle were the lucky Death Eaters in the room.

"Enervate," Narcissa said.

"Entanglus," Draco said again, watching with interest how the vines seemed to be almost intelligent in how they wrapped the body just enough to immobilize without causing pain, or stopping breathing.

Narcissa walked over to her, bent down, and moved the vines covering Bellatrix's mouth so that she could speak freely.

"Why, Bella? Assassination, poisoning, dueling to the death – all those have been properly used in the Malfoy clan to settle disputes, but never betrayal."

"Filth!" Bellatrix screamed. "Blood traitors! You are the traitors to the family, and you will suffer the traitor's curse, not me."

"Ah yes, the curse," Narcissa said, and touched her sisters face just above her right eye, where a dark spot was developing. "We never did know exactly what grandfather had cursed the family with, did we? We'll find out soon enough, though. You already have a dark spot growing just above your eye. I'd like to stay and find out what deviltry grandfather devised for traitors to our house, but I'm expecting guests, so you'll have to excuse me. I want to make sure we aren't here when they arrive."

She took her sister's wand and snapped it in half, dropping the broken wand in front of her. Narcissa walked regally from the room without ever looking back.

Draco followed her. "Mother, what about aunt Bellatrix? We can't just leave her here. She'll come after us the first chance she gets."

"I don't want to risk the curse myself. It might be considered a clean killing, or a betrayal. I don't know. It's safest to leave her alive, and I think the curse will take care of revenge for me."

As they left, Draco's Green Mark tingled, and he felt the oddest compulsion. "I'll be back shortly," he told his parents. "I have to take care of one last thing."

He ran to his room and grabbed a handful of socks. He summoned all the house elves, and they appeared trembling before him, ready to be punished as usual. He handed them all a sock. They stared at him and began to cry.

"No master," said Cricket, the kitchen elf. "Don't send us away. We serve house Malfoy. Please, we'll do better."

"I can't explain, Cricket. You just have to go, now. Go to Hogwarts, if you want. I'm sure you'll be welcomed there. It's not right to own another being," he said, feeling as if another person were saying the words. What was happening to him? He sounded like Granger now, and he was voluntarily throwing away valuable Malfoy property. He left a stunned group of house elves and ran back to his parents, wondering how much will he had left to him.

The Green Lady, as he called her, was worse than Voldemort in some ways. At least Voldemort had been basically human, which meant that Draco had known what to expect. And Voldemort only used the Dark Mark to summon or punish those who took too long to answer a summons. The Green Lady seemed to have a power similar to the Imperious curse built into her Green Mark.

"We have to apparate into the forbidden forest, and I'll take us from there," Draco told his parents. "House Malfoy has a new benefactor, unfortunately."

Lucius couldn't help but notice the bitterness in his son's voice.

"Whatever you do, don't get a mark," Draco said, and his father grabbed his wrist, frowning. He pulled up the sleeve of Draco's shirt, and was saddened by what he saw.

"It's another Mark," Lucius said. "I don't understand."

"It's a long story. The short version is, she saved all of our lives, at the cost of my soul."

"We've got to stop giving away our souls like this," Lucius said.

"Very funny, Dad."

ssss

Harry thought that his Defense classes were going much better. The students were still afraid of him, but under the pressure he applied, (some of them felt that their lives were literally threatened during some of his lessons) they were flourishing. It made him feel fulfilled to know that if they met Death Eaters on a dark night, they might live through the fight because of him.

He was on his way to meet Hermione for lunch, when he turned a corner and ran full on into Ron Weasley. Harry bounced off Ron's chest and landed on the floor hard.

"Bloody growth spurt!" he spat at Ron. Ron didn't laugh, which was odd. Their friendship had changed status over the years to the "guy I used to hang out with at school" level, but Harry was shocked at Ron's appearance. Even at the worst of times, Ron had been the one who was the level headed, sane one in the group. He tempered Harry's guilt complex and impetuosity, as well as Hermione's obsessive nature. Now, however, he looked more like a street beggar than a Weasley.

His face was pale, and his eyes were sunken and hollow looking. His clothes were dirty, and he looked like he hadn't eaten in a week.

"Ron, what's wrong? You look awful."

"Ginny's gone, Harry." Harry could hear the anguish in his voice, and for a minute, he thought Ron might break into tears in the hallway. Harry pulled him into an empty classroom and they sat at a student table.

"What do you mean gone, Ron? Voldemort's dead. Who else could have anything against Ginny?"

Ron smiled. "You always did think she was perfect, didn't you? She does have a few enemies, but that's not the worst of it. Her hand on the clock freaked out about a week ago. It flew to mortal peril, and then it just turned black, spun around the clock several times, and fell off. We don't know what it means, but she's nowhere to be found. I was hoping maybe you've heard from her."

"I saw her about a month ago in Hogsmeade, and we had a quick lunch together. She talked a lot about University, but that's about it. We told old school stories and had a couple of ales. She was fine, then."

Harry thought that Ron looked even sadder now, if that was possible. "What about Hermione, Ron? They were close in school."

"That's awkward, but I'll do it for Ginny."

"What happened with you two anyway?" Harry found himself back in the role he had played so often at school, being referee to Granger/Weasley drama.

"She got mad at mum and called her an 'over controlling self-righteous harpy'. When I didn't take her side in a stupid argument about how long muffins should cook, she threw her ring at me and ran out crying. I want to talk to her, just haven't got the guts to do it yet."

"I'd say this would be a good time for it. You need all the friends you can get, mate."

"Might not be a bad idea."

ssss

That was the day Snape discovered a new level of annoyance with Potter. He went to Drakia's office, with an excuse about a conflict in schedules that he had purposely created so he would have a reason to talk with her. As he entered, his eyes caught sight of a large vase full of expensive red roses. Suddenly, schedules were the farthest thing from his mind.

"Potter?" he asked, gesturing at the roses.

Drakia sighed. "Always the subtle one, aren't you? Yes, Harry sent me roses, and I think it's a lovely gesture."

"A bit gauche isn't it? A dozen red roses are hardly original."

"Actually, it's eleven roses."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me he used the old 'you're the twelfth rose' Schick. That's older than Merlin."

Drakia looked uncomfortable. "He's just a kid Severus. Give him a break. Actually, I'm not particularly interested in him. He's not really my type."

Snape realized he was making a tactical error. "I apologize, Drakia. I need to learn to mind my own business more. Actually, I was hoping we could discuss the scheduling issue with the Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw second period on Tuesdays."

Drakia smiled. "I have a better idea. Why don't we discuss it over lunch tomorrow?"

Severus lost his train of thought completely. "I'd like that, actually. How does the Boar and Thestral sound?"

"Sounds lovely. See you tomorrow then."

As he left, he felt off kilter. Did an attractive woman just ask him out? He bumped into a Gryffindor first year on the way to the dungeons. "Ten points from… ah, never mind. Just go." He didn't see the shocked look from the students around them. Gryffindor torture just wasn't as important today.

ssss

Lupin watched Drakia eating breakfast. Several things about her bothered him, and her eating habits were on the list. It wasn't her manners; those would put the most arrogant pureblood to shame. It was her food choice. She never ate bread, dairy, or fruit – only meat and a small amount of green vegetables. He found Harry after breakfast and asked to speak with him later.

Harry found him after classes and they went to Lupin's sparse quarters to talk. Harry noticed that the furniture was all second hand and shabby, and it looked more like a poor University student's quarters than a teacher's living area. He knew that it was because of the ministry decree that forced employers to pay non-human creatures half wages. Harry didn't understand the reasoning behind the decree, and set it down to simple prejudice. He wished that Lupin would accept some aid from his friends occasionally, but the old wolf was too proud, and too sensitive about his disease.

"So why are we here?" Harry asked. It was rare for Lupin to call attention to himself even this much.

"It's that Drakia, Harry."

"You're not still on about that, are you? She's just a Defense teacher."

"An attractive Defense teacher, you mean. I think you don't notice her oddness because her legs keep your attention."

"What's the point here?" Harry tried to keep his impatience out of his voice, but he was having difficulty. "I really like her, you know."

"I know, and it may be nothing. I just have a feeling she's much more than she seems. Dumbledore trusted her, so maybe I'm off track here. I don't know."

"Dumbledore trusted Snape too, and look where that got him."

Lupin brushed off Harry's rudeness. "She doesn't smell human, Harry. And she doesn't act human, sometimes. And her diet bothers me."

Harry laughed. "Her diet? You're kidding, right?"

"No, I'm not bloody kidding, Harry! Humans are omnivorous. She's carnivorous. Eats a bit of veg, and the rest is rare meat, like a predator. It's the same diet I eat."

"Ok, so she doesn't get balanced eater of the year award. I don't see why that's such a big deal."

"It's not just that. It's a lot of other, little things. You saw her animagus form. She downplayed it, but it would take a wizard more powerful than Dumbledore to pull that off. I don't even know if Merlin could have done that. And another thing I noticed is the way she does magic. She's an extremely powerful healer; we saw that on the train, but I've never seen her do any magic since."

"That is odd."

"Yeah, and when she did magic on the train, all of it was wandless. I don't even think I've ever seen her wand."

"She is powerful. Maybe she doesn't need a wand. I've heard of a few wizards like that."

Lupin snorted. "Sure. Merlin class wizards. Which brings me to something else. Why would such a powerful wizard teach non magical combat? It makes no sense at all."

"Dumbledore thought we needed it, obviously."

"Sure, but why send all the way to China for a hideously powerful mage, only to have her teach a subject as far away from her strong points as possible?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe because she's good at it?"

"That's just it, Harry. I watched a couple of her classes. She's a decent teacher, but nothing special, at least not in the street fighting area. And she's doing something that Madam Houche would be better at."

"Houche?"

"Yeah, one time I saw her in a bar with a broken wine bottle and a table leg. She flattened the place."

"I always knew she was tough."

"Here's the kicker. I've been thinking back over the spells she used on the train, and I started searching for them in the library. I even got Hermione involved, because she's the best researcher I know. You know what I found?"

"What?" Harry was getting interested in spite of his resolve to protect Drakia.

"Nothing." He sat back with a smug look on his face, as if that explained everything.

"Err, I don't understand, Remus."

"Those spells don't exist in any book in the entire library, so on a whim, I got a book from Beauxbottons, because they specialize in alternative magic over there. Two of the healing spells she used are discussed in the book. Here, take a look."

He pulled an ancient text off his dresser, called Dragon Magic and opened it carefully to a middle page. It had been written by Charlie Weasley, oddly enough.

"These spells have been rarely seen, and haven't been properly analyzed yet. They are used only by the fey, and human wizards have had no luck replicating them. Indeed, many human wizards who attempt fey magic are rendered permanently insane.

"Dextrous Extensiousis a spell that an unusually friendly dragon explained to me, after using it to heal a deep wound in his mate. The mage magically extends his or her fingers, claws, or tail into the mind or vital organ of the wounded creature, and manipulates the injury from inside the body, thus drastically improving chances of survival.

Breath of Life is another spell I witnessed in a flock of wild dragons in Romania. Whereas a human can only stabilize a person having trouble breathing or with a dangerously low pulse rate, dragons can actually match their vitals with another creature, controlling the injured creature's breath and pulse rate. It's a particularly dangerous spell, and only available to adult dragons. If the injured creature dies, the healer will die as well."

Lupin continued, "I saw her use those two spells on the train."

Harry was intrigued. "You really think she's a dragon? She'd have to be a really ancient dragon, to be able to hold a human form for so long, though. What would a dragon have to do with Hogwarts? And why wouldn't she use her magic?"

"Why did Fawkes pick Dumbledore? He always seemed to have an affinity with the fey. And since her supposed animagus form is a dragon, it's not that great of a logic leap, is it? She probably doesn't use magic to protect her identity, because using non-human magic would give her away."

"That's great, then! We need all the help we can get, and a dragon at Hogwarts can only help us. You have to admit, it's pretty hot, too."

Lupin wasn't convinced. "I don't know, Harry. I don't know much about dragons, but I do know that Slytherin chose the dragon as his symbol for a reason. They're known to be manipulative in the extreme, and mostly concerned with power and wealth. I don't think we should trust her, Harry. She's a dangerous fey creature!"

"Remus," Harry said cautiously, "I hate to say this, but you sound like Snape when you say that."

"What?"

"That's all the things he said about you, and they weren't true. You're not like other werewolves. Maybe she's not the stereotypical dragon. We should give her a chance."

Lupin thought for a moment and then nodded. "That's very Gryffindor of you, Harry. Perhaps you're right. I don't like people assuming things about me. I will be keeping an eye on her, though."

Harry grinned. "I already keep two eyes on her."

"I'm sure you do, cub. If it wasn't for Tonks, I might keep a couple eyes on her myself."

ssss

When they apparated into the forest, the first thing Draco and Narcissa did was wrap Lucius in a blanket they pulled from their bags. It wasn't very cold out, for November, but he was shaking with a chill. Draco was worried. He needed to build a shelter, but he had a feeling the Green Lady wouldn't take kindly to him killing trees for wood.

He wondered how to contact her, and then rubbed the Green Mark experimentally, sending her a message in his mind he hoped she would receive. The Mark tingled, and she apparated soundlessly before him. Soundless apparation was theoretically impossible, he remembered.

"Is this all?" She gestured toward his parents.

"That's all, Lady. My father is ill. I need shelter for him."

"Come deeper into the forest, and I'll make you a place." Lucius rose with a groan, and they followed her silently. Draco and Narcissa supported Lucius between them. They walked deep into the forest, and eventually came to a small lake with an island in the middle. She easily levitated Narcissa and Lucius to the island, and then crossed the water herself, leaving Draco behind.

She spoke no words, but moved her hands in the air. When she moved her hands, thick vines sprang up, forming a living hut.

"The centaurs will bring you what you need. You are not to leave the island unless you plan to serve me as your son has chosen."

"We will take no new Mark," Lucius said. "One is bad enough. I'm sorry Draco took the mark."

"Then you must make a death-oath not to betray my presence or intentions to my enemies."

The Malfoys made an unbreakable promise, and entered their new home. The Green Lady cast a spell on the vine-hut, warming it permanently, and then gave Lucius some of her strength as a mild healing spell he didn't recognize.

"Come, Vel. I have a lot to tell you, and then you will have work to do."

ssss

Severus decided that Saturday lunch with Drakia was the best date he'd ever had, although that wasn't saying much, considering he'd had very few dates. It was good to be with someone who wasn't with him for ambitious reasons. They drank beer, had some fine fish and chips, and played darts for hours. He only won about half the games, but he didn't mind, which was unusual for him.

They decided to walk back to Hogwarts, and went the long way, through fields and across a small brook. As they walked through the autumn leaves, he realized that the sound of crunching leaves used to be a troublesome failure for a spy. Now it actually didn't bother him. He was changing.

After he left her at her quarters, she smiled, gave him a quick but sincere kiss. "Let's do this again sometime, Severus. I had fun."

When she shut the door he felt a small amount of anxiety. He'd never been on a second date before.

Ssss

The next Order meeting was torture for Snape. As Mad Eye Moody prattled on about constant vigilance in the form of automated magical defense systems, his mark burned him. At first, it was simply the usual summoning burn, which he was used to and could ignore. Apparently, Voldemort had other plans for him though. The mark grew hotter until he couldn't ignore it any longer.

Rather than have the others see him in pain, he excused himself to use the lavatory. He slumped against the wall in the hallway, holding his arm and trying to force himself to breathe normally. The pain grew worse, and he held his arm to his chest, fighting the darkness that grew around him.

No one even really missed him until Lupin smelled the metallic twang of blood just as Moody noticed the red flow seeping in under the door. Both of them rushed to the hallway, wands extended, to find Snape huddled against the wall with his head on his knees. He groaned and tried to stir.

McGonagall was the first to reach him. She laid him on the floor and looked for his injury. "I can't see where the blood's coming from."

Tonks cast a cleansing spell, and saw that the wound was his dark mark, which was flowing like a fresh wound.

Moody tried some healing spells, but nothing worked. The last spell actually seemed to make the bleeding worse.

"We have to do something." Hermione said. "He can't handle this much longer."

"We have to get him to Voldemort," Harry said. "The wound from slave marks just increases in severity until the slave returns to his master."

"Where did you learn that?" Lupin asked.

"Er, I've been doing some extra reading. We'll have to wake him so he can take us there."

They began casting spells designed to give the user more energy, and finally he opened his eyes, but he didn't seem to know where he was or what was happening to him. Finally, Moody roared, "Get us to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, you bloody useless git."

They all grabbed him right before his hand touched the bloody mark, and they found themselves being flung across vast spaces.

They landed in a large graveyard. _What is it with Voldemort and graveyards_? Harry wondered. He noticed that as soon as they obeyed the summons, Snape's bleeding stopped, but he lay motionless near them.

Everyone had their wands out, ready to kill whatever they might find in the trap. They were unprepared to see frightened Ginny Weasley rushing toward them.

"Harry," she cried, "I was so scared." She flung himself into his arms and sobbed dramatically. Harry was so glad to see her again he never even questioned her presence.

She explained to him that Voldemort had brought her here for some spell, but had sensed them all coming and had apparated away. It wasn't long before the two of them were at The Burrow on a shabby but comfortable couch. Ginny rested in his arms, and Harry found himself rethinking their relationship. It had really scared him to lose her. No one could explain why her hand on the clock simply wouldn't stay anymore, though. Molly thought it had something to do with the trauma she'd been through.

Snape woke up in the hospital wing at Hogwarts, with Drakia beside him. "Bloody hell, I'm in here more than Potter in his first year," he said.

"Welcome back, Severus. Don't scare me again like that." Drakia seemed overly cheerful to him. Had she really been worried about him?

He was about to get up when he was met with a stern faced Poppy. "Oh no you don't! You stay right here and rest for the rest of the day. Magically produced blood isn't going to make you well immediately. Drink this." She held a cup of brown liquid out to him. He sniffed it experimentally.

"I don't need a sleeping draught."

"My ward, my rules, Professor. Drink. Now."

He knew better than to argue with a mediwitch. He'd only done it once, and Poppy had changed the potion he objected to, infusing it with a musky rotten taste and then she had forced him to drink it anyway by threatening to call for the Headmaster. She was definitely the alpha-dog here.

He decided the hospital wing was much nicer with Drakia there.

Ssss

The entire agenda for the next Order meeting was analyzing the failure of the potion that was supposed to make Voldemort mortal. A lot of the criticism fell on Snape.

"Well, how could I bloody know?" he yelled. "I didn't come up with the potion. Dumbledore did. I just assumed it would work."

"Yes," Harry said, "but you added that catalyst. That had to be the problem."

"Are you questioning my potion making abilities, Professor Potter?" he hissed.

"I wouldn't dare, Professor Snape. Especially since that last potion worked so very well."

McGonagall felt that things were getting out of hand. "Gentlemen, let's save personal grudges for later." They reluctantly turned their attention back to her. "There is an alternate explanation that makes much more sense to me."

"Out with it woman; what is it?" Moody growled.

"Professor Dumbledore never was very good with potions."

Snape groaned. "I forgot. I even had to make his blasted sherbet lemons. I hated doing that."

"You made candy for him?" Harry asked. "Why?"

"You didn't know? He had me put a calming draught in those. That's why he was always offering them to students."

McGonagall's jaw dropped, "Merlin's balls! I saw him pop five of those in a business meeting one time."

Snape said, "I know. He was really relaxed, wasn't he? Don't even get me started on what he had Professor Sprout growing in the back of the greenhouse."

There was light laughter across the table as they remembered their fallen comrade's quirks. Then there was sadness, but it was a gentle sadness, faded with time and tinged with love and memory.

"What will we do then?" Molly asked. "He could have made more of those Horcruxes by now, and destroying the last one killed Dumbledore."

No one really had any good ideas about that. Finally Harry spoke up, "Here's an idea. Let's just forget the Horcruxes. He's not that subtle, so he won't stay hidden for long when he comes back. Now that the magic community knows he has the ability to return from the dead, we won't have such a hard time convincing them the next time he returns."

"So what do we do?" Tonks asked.

"Hunt the Death Eaters, and wait for him to return. Dumbledore was right; our power lies in our allies. His power is really in fear, though. Sure he's strong, but we could take him alone." This seemed obvious to Harry. He wondered how the others never saw it before.

"And when he returns?"

Harry grinned. "Who's up for some Dark Lord hunting? We'll just kill him until he runs out of Horcruxes. He can't make them forever because they involve splitting his soul. Eventually, he won't have enough to split again. And then we're done."

Silence. Tonks shrugged. "Well, we don't have a better plan, and we can still look for the horcruxes while we're looking for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended

Draco hated his new life, if it could even be called a life. He missed being the pampered heir of the Malfoy fortune. He wasn't used to having to work for a living, either. He seemed to spend most of his time on bizarre errands for the Green Lady. Most of them seemed to be worthless wastes of time to him, such as when he spent an entire day helping a Fairy Colony relocate itself. The Green Lady had been very specific in her instructions, and she had made him feel her reluctance to deal with him. He had to find exactly the right kind of toadstools, and they had to be a specific distance from water. The fairies bit him occasionally, too.

He also had the "pleasure" of attending to animals and fey creatures that had been hurt in the various Death Eater uprisings all over Europe. They straggled into the forest with broken limbs and cursed bodies, seeking help from the Green Lady. She set up a sort of hospital for them near the island where Draco's parents lived, and she set Draco to healing the less injured creatures while she attended to the more serious wounds and curses.

Draco found himself using magic spells he'd never learned, or cared to learn. He could have cared less if a few rabbits and pixies died, but the Green Lady took every field mouse's death as if the beast were her own kin.

"Can we call it a night?" he asked her, wiping sweat from his forehead. There was no answer. He turned to repeat himself, and saw her holding a dead falcon. Shimmering tears ran down her face, and she looked hundreds of years old.

"Go to your parents, Vel. I'll finish up here," she said tiredly. He knew she needed help with the healings, but he felt no compulsion to help her. He wasn't exactly there of his own choosing, after all. He felt a deep distaste for her as he left.

He hadn't seen his parents since he'd brought them to their new home. The Green Lady had kept him too busy, and she had told him to sleep wherever he finished for the night. He had tried to argue with her a few times, but she had no patience with him. She would simply force pain through his Mark, ending the discussion.

Lucius was looking much better. Except for his thinness and the new wrinkles across his brow, he might have been the old Lucius that Draco knew. Draco smiled when he saw his family, but his mother looked concerned. She took his arm and peered at it in the twilight.

"Draco dear, when did you turn green?"

His arm did have a distincly greenish cast to it. "I don't know, exactly. It seems like whenever She uses me I turn a little greener." He shrugged.

"There's nothing to be done about it. Sometimes She actually makes me miss the Dark Lord."

Lucius' eye twitched. "This isn't right; I'll talk to her when I see her. There must be something she wants. We'll find some way to buy you back from her."

Draco felt a bit of pity. Lucius really didn't get it. "She doesn't think like us. She only cares about fey things. I don't think care is even the right word. I feel her thoughts sometimes, and they just aren't like ours. It's like trying to negotiate with a tree."

Narcissa put on a smile for her son, although it looked a bit strained. "The centaurs left us some squash stew. Have some with us."

They sat and ate in comfortable silence, and he bedded down on a nice pile of vines that seemed to have grown into a bed shape just for him. He didn't know when he'd slept so well. He had exhausted himself running errands for his mistress, and he wondered if he would ever be free of her.

The following morning, Narcissa decided to help her son a bit. They may have to live in the woods, but that didn't mean they should give up proper grooming habits. She plucked at a small twig that was sticking out of his hair, and was surprised when Draco yelled and clutched his head.

"Mother, what are you doing? Stop trying to pull my hair out!"

"There's a twig stuck there darling – a few twigs actually. Let me get them out." She used her fingers to carefully pull apart the tangled white hair to find that the twigs were actually attached to his scalp, and seemed to have roots reaching down into his head.

When she told Draco, he panicked. He slapped his Mark hard, trying to put a forceful calling into it. He paced impatiently for an hour or so before She arrived.

"What have you done to me? What is this?" he asked, pointing to the twigs. She looked at his head, but was obviously reluctant to touch him. She shrugged disinterestedly.

"I've never taken a human servent before. Your skin is green, too." She lifted his chin to look in his eyes and laughed. "You're becoming fey, little one." She wiped her hand on her dress, as if touching him left her soiled.

Lucius was furious. "Now see here! Draco doesn't want to be fey! You can't do this to him."

"Actually, I'm not doing this to him. The green magic I placed into him is mutating him, or at least that's what I think is happening. I don't generally pay enough attention to humans to know how your bodies react. You are sadly frail beings. I lose interest in your angst, Vel. I have other things to do, so you'll have to deal with your problems on your own." With that she apparated away, leaving the Malfoys stunned and uncomfortable.

She didn't call Draco for the rest of the day, so he had some time to spend with his parents. He noticed that Lucius didn't quite want to meet his eyes now, as if he was uncomfortable with Draco's problem. Narcissa's own eyes were bloodshot from crying, and Draco was almost relieved when She called him to Herself again.

Ssss

Severus waited impatiently for Drakia at the teachers' lounge. She had been acting oddly lately, and she had been occasionally skipping their lounge times. He was torn between the need to see her again and his natural repulsion at the thought of needing anyone else. When she finally arrived a half-hour late, he was more concerned than angry when he saw her pale skin and flushed cheeks.

"Are you feeling well, Drakia? You look a little feverish." The Slytherin side of him hoped whatever she had wasn't catching. He was surprised, however, at a genuine concern for her.

"Just a little tired, Sev. I need to get out more."

He didn't really liked being called Sev, but from her he allowed it. She at least had the good sense to only do it in private.

He sat his papers aside. He might not know a lot about women, but he knew they liked attention, and he wanted to keep this one. She was not only beautiful, but powerful as well. He couldn't help but think that she would be a great asset to his family line. He realized he hadn't tried to find out if she was a pureblood yet, and was surprised to find out he didn't really care. The side of himself he was discovering was turning out to be more troublesome than anything. He liked knowing he wasn't destined to be evil, but he still resonated more with Slytherin philosophy than with Griffindor thinking. It bothered him that new types of thoughts continually intruded. It also bothered him that he was beginning to enjoy giving in to those impulses occasionally. With Drakia, however, he didn't mind so much.

That was how he'd been since Drakia healed him. It almost seemed as if a Slytherin and a Griffindor were in his head battling for control. Some days he felt as if it would tear him apart.

"Would a walk around Hogsmeade help you feel better?" he asked, hoping she would turn him down. It was a necessary show of concern, but he had papers to grade and a detention he really didn't want to reasign.

"No," she said listlessly, and he noticed that she was looking out the window toward the forest.

He turned back to his papers; apparently she didn't really want to talk.

"Did you ever just need to fly?" she asked quietly.

"What? Don't tell me you're the Quiddich type and I'm just now finding out."

She seemed jolted out of a revery. "Oh, nothing. Sorry, I was just thinking out loud."

They spent the rest of the study hall in silence. He found himself wondering how he should properly ask her to marry him. It would be best to get her before Potter found a way to steal her for himself. He couldn't stand the thought of Potter's hands on his Drakia.

Sssss

The Weasleys' relief at their daughter's recovery was short-lived. Ginny didn't act like herself, quarreling with her brothers and parents over everything, and she left only a couple days after she arrived. Molly got word from Fred that she had quit going to school and hadn't been seen since.

Ron tromped down the stairs, and Molly frowned at him. "Ronald dear, you could at least shave. You look like a tramp."

He grumbled something and rumbled around in the fridge for leftovers.

"Any word?" she asked, crossing her fingers behind her back.

"Nothing," he said around a mouthful of egg salad. "It's like she fell off the edge of the map. I checked the stores, the beauty parlors, everywhere I know she likes. I thought I saw her once last night, but it must have been someone else.

Molly felt a sudden surge of hope. "Where, Ronald?"

He shook his head. "There's no way Gin would be hanging around Knockturn Alley, mom. As I was passing by, I could have sworn I saw her in the shadows. I tried to follow, but whoever it was disappeared."

Hermoine apparated into the room and hugged Molly.

"At least some good came out of all this," Molly said. She wiped a few tears from her eyes. "I'm glad to have you back dear." She left the room to give them some privacy.

Sssss

Just before Christmas, a new scene graced the castle. As McGonagall was doing her nightly rounds, a huge shadow fell over her. She looked up to see the siloutte of a dragon between herself and the moon. She recognized Drakia, and stayed for a few minutes to watch her gracefull acrobatics. She felt safer knowing a dragon animagus soared above Hogwarts.

Severus was always a bit startled when the green and silver decorations suddenly sprung up in the Slytherin common room. It almost seemed as if Christmas snuck up on him every year, what with the hectic schedule he always kept. This year was special though. This was going to be the year he humiliated Potter in front of the entire wizarding world.

He had been looking forward to the battle all semester. He had expected Drakia to try to talk him out of it, but she had simply said, "I'm not a Gryffindor, so I won't make useless emotional gestures. Please don't actually kill him though. We do need him when we finally find Voldemort. I think roughing him up a bit should be enough for whatever male ego battle you two are fighting." After that she pretended the duel wasn't happening.

Severus spent the first part of the day with Drakia, opening the first present he had received since Albus had died. He didn't miss Albus' yearly offering of brightly colored socks, but he did miss the gesture. Drakia gave him a handsome firewisky decanter, with a pewter dragon circling the bottom. He gave her an engagement ring, which she accepted.

Once the necessities were out of the way, he left with the excuse of being tired. He really needed to prepare for the next day's duel. He spent the rest of the day practicing spells and curses.

That night he had tortured dreams of Albus. He awoke to see the ghost of the former Headmaster floating near the baseboard of his bead. "Please Severus," he begged with tears running down into his beard. "Don't do this. Please."

How could he say no? He had rarely been able to tell Albus no in life, and he still couldn't tell him no in death. "I won't kill him, Albus – for you."

The ghost shook his head. "Don't do this battle, Severus. I'll never rest easy if you two duel to the death – and it will be to the death. Neither of you do anything partway."

Severus was about to protest that he could beat Potter without killing him, but he realized that Albus was right. It just wasn't in him to back down. If he dueled Potter he would kill or be killed; there was no other way. Dumbledore's ghost just floated, waiting for an answer.

"I promise. I won't duel him. I do hope you realize you cost me an extreme amount of embarrassment."

The ghost smiled and wiped his face with his sleeve. "Thank you Severus." He disappeared, and Snape spent the rest of the night searching for a way to turn the deteriorating situation to his advantage.

When they arrived at the dueling arena, he was surprised at the number of wizard and witches gathered to support their chosen duelist. They carried signs with his or Harry's picture. Various women shouted proposals at both of them. There was a festival atmosphere, and while on one level he appreciated the attention, on another level he was disgusted with their shallowness.

Snape and Harry stood on the stage, with their seconds close by. The brat had taken the chance to visit the best tailors, and he wore the trendiest dueling gloves of kid skin, along with red robes with real gold thread woven into them. The announcer approached and used an amplification spell so the croud could hear them.

"Witches and wizards and mages of all ages, we have here for your amazement and amusement two of the most powerful wizards of our time - the two wizards responsible for You-Know-Who's downfall. These two wizards, the cornerstones of Hogwart's power, the masters of secrets unknown to other men, the ablest and most powerfull..."

Snape quit listening to his drabble and focused on his strategy. Pulling this off would mark him as one of England's noblest wizards. If he couldn't have a physical victory, he'd settle for a political victory, which would add another notch to his belt. If he failed he would look like a coward.

The announcer moved to Harry. "Professor Potter. Do you have any words before this historic event?"

Harry grinned and looked over the crowd. He searched until his eyes met Drakia's. "I would like to dedicate this victory to the most beautiful enchantress, Drakia. Madam," he said, and bowed elegantly in her direction.

The crowd gasped along with Drakia, who wasn't pleased. A murmer went through the crowd. Despite McGonagall's promise, Snape had been in the tabloids frequently, and his romance with Drakia was followed almost as faithfully as the royal romances and scandals.

Snape was furious with Potter's audacity, but happy with the boy's naivity. What the brat had done worked in his favor. The crowd was almost entirely for him now. When the announcer turned to him, he played his rehearsed part well. He figured if he was going to be forced to look foolish for the sake of the old man, he was going to milk this situation for all it was worth. He was Head of Slytherin house again, after all. He had a reputation to uphold.

"I would like to take this opportunity to formally appologize to Professor Potter for the rudeness I displayed to him earlier this semester. I have decided that it ill befits the memory of Albus Dumbledore, our mutaul friend and mentor, to have two of his closest friends try to kill each other."

He extended a hand toward Potter. "Please Harry, for the sake of Albus, let's end this." He smiled as charmingly as he could manage with the bad teeth, and he held his hand toward Harry for about half a minute while the crowd cheered wildly. Harry turned red and shook with anger. Finally Snape shook his head in a parody of sadness and turned to walk away, hiding the secret joy he felt. He had won. He had to fight hard to keep from smirking.

As he turned, he saw Drakia's face, smiling proudly at what she saw as his nobility of spirit. He felt a quick twinge of guilt, which he set aside. He reasoned that even if he had made her happy with a dishonest act, she was happy; that was what mattered. A happy powerful fiancée was a placated fiancée. As he watched, the expression on her face changed to confusion, and then horrified shock.

Snape had underestimated Harry once again, perhaps for the last time. He realized what was happening behind him too late to duck the curse. He heard Potter's voice shouting, "Crucio!" and fell, unable to defend himself.

In the split second before the pain hit, he had time to fully understand his folly. Snape was one of the fastest dueling masters in history, and even with a shot from behind Potter shouldn't have been able to best him. As he turned he saw that Potter's hand was covered by what seemed to be a black mist. Snape had seen that mist before. It was extremely strong dark magic, guaranteed to give a mage unbelievable speed, but at the cost of a thestral colt's life, and other more diabolical deeds. Potter in his rage had revealed himself to the world as a Dark Wizard.

At first Snape wasn't worried, because he'd been through this curse before - under bullies at school and then later under Voldemort. He's actually built up a small tolerance to the mental effects. As the curse grew in strength though, he realized that it was different from any pain he'd ever felt in his life. The previous casters had been idle bullies, or sadists. They were just playing compared to the anger and rage he felt from Potter. This was the most personal casting of the Cruciatus curse he'd ever felt. Voldemort hadn't hated him; he had merely chastised him like a bad dog. Potter was pouring all the hate of his emo life into this one spell.

Pain slowed time to a crawl, and he noticed the official dueling clock over Potter's shoulder. An hour of pain went by, and the second hand moved once. Panic laced through him. A second? It was generally several minutes before a Cruciatus victim lost him mind, and that seemed like an eternity to him. The scientific part of his brain felt that it was too bad he wouldn't be able to write about the experience; he'd be too crazy.

The next hour/second passed in waves, and he felt Potter fine tuning the curse just for him, playing his nerves like a harp. The third hour/second of pain had just started, and he was trying unsuccessfully to move any appendage at all, when he heard a great roar behind him.

Snape watched helplessly, unable to move enough to take advantage of the distraction Drakia created as she launched her full dragon-form over the stage at Harry. Fortunately, it was an open stadium, or the great dragon wouldn't have fit in the building.

A giant scarred claw descended upon Harry, forcing him to break the curse and jump backward just before Drakia smashed the stage where he had been standing. She threw a massive wing over Severus to shield him from the splinters and any further magic assault Harry might send at him. She set free a full roar in Harry's direction, but he'd spent enough time with the Weasleys to get a bit of dragon lore from their most adventurous son. The dragon roar was just a scare tactic, and so lost its advantage on Harry. What did scare him though, was what she did next. He watched in horror as a massive ball of pure magic began to form in front of her open mouth, growing in size and intensity until its blue glow eclipsed everything around it.

Pandemonium ensued around the massive beast, as many wizards tried to flee, and some of the bravest wizards threw curses at Drakia. Their desire to avoid destruction in the very heart of London made them ineffective. They couldn't use their most powerful spells, or they might cause collateral damage. McGonagall climbed onto the stage, severely dwarfed by the dragon, but determined to do her part to stop the catastrophe about to happen. She'd never seen this type of attack before, but she estimated that if Drakia released pure concentrated magic as a ranged attack she'd level at least half of London. It would be the magical equivalent of a muggle atomic bomb.

Drakia's tail whipped down and smashed more of the stage, sending great shards flying. Madam Hooch, master of all things flying, had little trouble snatching the splinters and logs out of the air with bits of magic, rendering them harmless.

McGonagall used a megaphone spell to try to reach the enraged serpent. "Drakia, don't do it!" she bellowed. "Too many people will die."

The dragon's power continued to form and grow, and she didn't acknowledge McGonagall's presence. The headmistress had an odd realization; the people who had stayed were among the bravest and strongest fighters the English magic world had to offer. If they all died here, only the cowards who ran and left London to destruction would be left to carry the magic world forward.

She heard various curses and spells being fired off around her: defensive spells, offensive spells, whatever people could think of. They simply bounced off the creature. The only spell that seemed to even faze her was Molly Weasley's attempt to use a scrubbing spell that was reserved for her most stubborn pots. She put a great deal of power into it, but was only able to cause a small wound on Drakia's shoulder about four feet wide. It wasn't enough to stop Drakia's concentration on her spell, but it did shower down a small stream of acidic blood, sending the mages scuttling away from the hissing shower that added the stench of burnt wood and flesh to the scene.

A massive "pop" of a large group of wizards apparating into the room finally caught Drakia's attention.

Voldemort and his henchmen stood, their jaws gaping at the scene before them. There were a few of the old guard, but most of the Death-eaters were young men.

Voldemort quickly regained his composure and threw a death curse at Harry, who dodged it neatly. Harry forgot his fight with Drakia and threw himself into the new battle just as furiously as he had attacked Snape.

Drakia allowed the magic building up before her to dissipate so she could deal with the new danger. She stuck to ranged attacks so she could keep her massive wing over Snape, who was still stunned from the curse. It hampered her though. The Death-eaters only had to stay out of the reach of her claws, and now that she'd calmed down a bit after Harry's attack on Snape she saw the danger of ranged attacks in a place filled with enemies and allies. She sent a few startlingly accurate attacks at the death eaters, but she had to painstakingly aim at - what were for her – very small targets.

Everyone was amazed at Harry's unsuspected strength and speed. He moved around the other wizards, so much faster than them it almost seemed as if he was flying. The dark energy buzzed around him, aiding and – although he didn't know at the time – corrupting him. He kept many of the mages from death, zipping in and pushing them out of the way of curses. He finally seemed to have remembered whose side he was on. Once he even stopped a large piece of the wall from falling on Mad Eye by catching it and shoving it aside in a show of inhuman strength. Mad Eye spared him a distrustful look before leaping back into battle.

Everyone fought as hard as they could, but many of the mages had already used a great deal of energy trying to stop Drakia. In the end, Voldemort was left with only two Death-eaters. They were young men that had just graduated Hogwarts with poor grades. They needed to make a name for themselves, and Voldemort had been only too happy to oblige. The only reason they were still alive is because the more experienced Death-eaters drew the aggression from the mages.

There was a brief pause in battle as the wounded were dragged out. The Death-eaters cringed behind Voldemort, wands shaking in front of them. Drakia roared, angered further by her inability to reach them.

McGonagall spoke. "You're obviously outnumbered. Why don't you turn yourselves in? I'm sure the authorities will understand that you boys were manipulated." They wouldn't understand at all, but she hoped the boys were too panicked to think the situation through.

One of the boys lowered his wand slightly. McGonagall could see that he'd been crying. His mask had fallen off in the fight and she could see his frightened face clearly. She couldn't quite recall his name. What was it? Henry, Helly, Herbie? That was it – Herbie.

"Herbie Henworth, isn't it?"

The boy nodded and pushed some sweat-slicked hair from his face.

"Come here, Herbie. This doesn't have to end like this." She saw indecision on his face. He was probably wondering is a lifetime in Azkaban was better than death in a battle he didn't even care about any more.

Herbie dropped his wand and made a move toward her. Just as he moved in front of Voldemort, the old wizard grabbed him from behind. He wrapped an arm around Herbie's neck and pulled him backward toward an overturned bench. He used the now screaming boy as a human shield while he threw curse after curse at the defenders. Herbie died quickly, but not before he saw his "friend" run toward the door full speed. In the confusion, the traitor actually managed to escape. Herbie was left alone with Voldemort and his enemies - dying and unwanted.

Voldemort threw Herbie's body toward the defenders just as he dived behind his make-shift bunker. He quickly cast a powerful spell on the broken bench that transfigured it into a concrete barrier. Chips of stone flew off in all directions from the mages' frustrated attacks, but Voldemort was able to gather himself and assess the situation.

Snape recovered from Harry's curse enough to struggle out from under Drakia's wing. He was unable to move his legs properly. They tingled and didn't respond to his commands. He settled for shooting curses from a sitting position on what was left of the stage.

Drakia was surprised Snape had recovered at all. Most wizards would have been rendered unconscious by a spell half as vicious as Harry's Cruciatus. Remembering the spell made her half-spent fury reassert itself, and she decided when this battle was over she'd kill Harry before he had a chance to rebuild his strength or flee. She turned her attention back to Voldemort; she was getting annoyed with his intrusion into her personal battle with Harry.

Once she assured herself that Snape was able to fight she launched herself at Voldemort. Spells from both sides hit her as she closed on him, but she ignored the wounds in her face and flanks. Just as her teeth snapped down on the space Voldemort's body should be, he apparated. Her teeth made a mighty snap, and the infuriated roar she released made all the mages stop. They watched her carefully, wondering if they had won one battle just to lose London anyway. She was the unknown in the current situation.

She looked for Harry, only to find him unconscious under a bit of rubble. He had a deep wound to the shoulder and a cut on his forehead. The dark energy had dissipated, and he had been left helpless just when he needed it most. The magic he'd chosen was fickle. She growled impatiently and pushed at him with a claw, careful not to wound him. There was no honor in punishing an unconscious foe. When he made no response, she shoved him a bit harder and waited.

She gave him a disgusted look and decided to save that particular battle for a time when he was able to fight properly. It was one thing to attack him when he was tired; it was quite another to kill him when he was unconscious. She wanted the satisfaction of drawing the battle out and letting him understand he was going to die. And now that she had a bit of time to calm down, she realized she didn't want to fight among so many humans. There would be time to find a more appropriate battle ground.

She took her human form and began to help heal the wounded. For such tasks, hands were much more useful than claws. Silence settled over the humans that were still conscious, and all of them were nervous around her. When she approached McGonagall, she was glad that the Headmistress didn't seem to fear her. McGonagall viewed the dragon as a friend.

Drakia flat refused to heal Harry, which angered McGonagall and Mad Eye. Mad Eye just grumbled about it - being angry at Harry himself – but McGonagall was never one to be short with words.

"He fought beside us just as much as you did!" she said.

"He's nothing to me now – less than nothing, really. The only reason he's not dead right now is I want him to see my teeth up close before he dies."

"Dumbledore would be so disappointed," McGonagall said, feeling justified in using a bit of guilt to motivate the woman.

"You're crossing a line, Minerva. Dumbledore knew _exactly_ what I am, and he wasn't bothered by it anymore than I am. Don't expect me to be Gryffindor, and I won't expect you to be serpentine."

She found Snape sitting on the floor beside Madam Hooch, healing her badly broken leg. He was trying to hide his weakened state, but Drakia noticed that when he moved about to work on his patient his legs seemed to drag. He didn't stand but moved about the floor as if he was moving from patient to patient purposely. She wondered if his legs worked at all.

She stepped in and finished the healing. "Can you walk?" she asked quietly.

He hesitated, not wanting to let even Drakia know that he wasn't in full control of his body. He needed to get out of here though, and need overwhelmed his natural distrust of people offering him "help".

"Something's wrong with my legs," he said, making sure no one else heard him but Drakia. He wanted to get back to his potions ingredients and begin making something to help his damaged nerves. He was just relieved that he was only partially paralyzed. He couldn't help but think of patients he'd seen in St. Mungo's suffering from Cruciatus Catatonia and shudder.

She started to heal him, but he stopped her. "Not here. I don't want them to know. Let's get back to the school."

She put her arm around him and they apparated. The humans could handle their own problems, she decided.

They landed in her quarters, and she began to heal his legs. When she was finished, she leaned back and cracked her back. She was visibly exhausted. "How's that?" she asked.

Snape tried to move his legs. They moved some, but still weren't responding like they should. "At least they work a bit. Probably nerve damage. I know a few potions that will help with that. I might not get full mobility back for some time, but right now I'm more worried about being able to fight."

He had Drakia bring him a Quiddich broom and transformed it into a flying chair. It was a bit prickly, having been partly broom, but it would work. He couldn't keep the students from seeing his disability, but he had to get to work. He felt sure that Voldemort would return, and he needed to be able to help protect the school when that happened.

With all the fuss over the attack and his preoccupation with the potion he was preparing, it was almost a full day before the gravity of the situation fully settled in for him. He'd seen amimagi before. No wizard could pull off a spell of that magnitude, not even Merlin.

He was engaged to a dragon. Not good. Not good at all.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Curses

Draco had no choice; he had to return to the manor. It looked like he would be stuck in the forest for a long time, perhaps the rest of his tree-burdened life. He apparated into the formal entrance hall, where he was struck by the powerful smell of rotting Death-Eaters. He headed toward his parents' room to get the various powerful, illegal magic items his father kept hidden in a secret compartment under the floor. Draco deactivated the various protection wards; fortunately no visitors had plundered the house yet.

He found the hand of glory, his father's favorite cane, and his mother's special perfume that was mildly hypnotic when she wanted it to be. He moved to his father's study and pulled some of Lucius' favorite books. He didn't want to return with too much; he was afraid the Green Lady would object to dark magic in her forest, so he wanted to keep the magic signature low.

Draco was about to return to the forest when a small voice stopped him, "Draco, dear. Would you help your old aunt, please?"

He spun, reaching for his wand, and then he remembered that he couldn't do much human magic anymore. Even his apparations were inhuman now; they were soundless and lacked the stomach problems apparition used to cause him. He didn't see his aunt though. He just saw a scared house elf.

He bent to address her. "What are you doing here? I sent all of you away remember? I even gave you socks. Why do you want me to help Aunt Bella anyway? She was always mean to inhumans."

The elf began to cry. "Draco, don't you know me.?"

Draco was too astonished to answer for a moment. When he recovered his wits he stammered, "Aunt Bella? But how…"

She lifted a mop of hair and pointed to the black blotch on her forehead. "The family curse, I guess. Can't you lift this? I promise I won't try to hurt you again."

"How could I possibly trust you?" Draco asked. He already knew he was powerless to help her, but he wanted to draw out this bizarre conversation. He owed her for what she had tried to do to his parents. This humiliation was a good start for revenge.

"If I tried to kill you again, I'd just get the curse again. That would keep me from doing you harm, right?" She looked at him anxiously, waiting for him to save or kill her. Either choice would work for her about now.

"I could…" He paused, as if he was thinking of a cure for her condition.

"Could what? Could what?" She danced about excitedly.

"Nah," he said, and apparated soundlessly, leaving a stunned and bitter aunt behind. When he told the story to his parents that night, the whole family got a hearty laugh over her predicament.

"Ah," his father sighed. "Good times."

Draco knew his father was being sarcastic. The truth was the Malfoys were miserable. They were accustomed to comfort and respect - or at the very least fear. They were reduced to being the kept pets of a sentient tree spirit, which drove Narcissa to near distraction.

"Honestly Draco, do you ever think she'll let us go? This isn't living, and what she's doing to you isn't right. You're all green and brown splotches now, and those twigs are growing leaves. It's undignified."

Draco let her rant. If she knew the extent to which he'd changed, she'd be even more horrified. He felt like his movements were slowing, and his mind was changing. He couldn't have described it to his mother, but he could feel the change. Humans seemed odd to him, almost alien in nature. Even as he was moving away from humanity he was becoming more fey everyday. He was actually beginning to enjoy his time with the pixies, which had grown to love him.

What was most troubling were the hard protrusions growing on the bottom of his feet. Soon he wouldn't be able to wear shoes anymore, because the irregular wood-like growths were cutting at the leather. He knew what was happening to his body; he was growing roots. He had a limited amount of time to kill Voldemort. Originally he had agreed to the Green Lady's demands to save his skin, but he wanted to kill Voldemort for other reasons lately. Draco suspected he wouldn't live long, or that he wouldn't be human at any rate. He wanted his former master dead and unable to hurt his parents.

Ssssss

Harry woke up in the Hogwart's medical wing and smirked. He had outsmarted everyone, especially the greasy git. Legally, duels begin the moment a contestant steps into the dueling arena and end when one contestant surrenders formally.

There had actually been two announcers who had met untimely deaths because the dueling wizards began throwing spells the moment they entered the ring. In both cases, courts had ruled against murder charges. Harry knew this would work in his favor.

He guessed he still retained his position at Hogwarts, since nowhere in his contract did it specifically state that dark magic couldn't be used by teachers. The exact phrasing had been, "No teacher may use dark magic on school grounds or in front of students." Students hadn't been allowed at the duels. There had been a couple teachers who had openly advocated dark magic over the years; they weren't encouraged, but they were tolerated to an extent.

Even though McGonagall hadn't been able to fire him yet, he was sure she would only wait for his next slip-up to let him go. He had already made plans by the time Poppy noticed he was awake. During the heat of the battle, he had grabbed a small piece of blood-scorched wood from the stage on which Drakia had bled her acidic blood. Dragon blood just happened to be part of a very dark spell he'd been studying lately, ever since he began to suspect her true nature.

He smiled at the medi-witch. "Hey, good to be home again," he said. No point in needlessly antagonizing her, right? The Gryffindor in him regretted his actions, and he wanted to make friends at the school again.

She glared at him and checked his wound silently, but she was less gentle than she might have been. When she was finished she made a few notes on his chart and left. Harry suspected he had lost a great many friends when he revealed his dark magic, but somehow he didn't attach too much significance to most of them. He knew that his closest friends would stand by him, even through this. He trusted their friendship with all his soul. They kept him human.

Voldemort teleported into the forbidden forest. She had a wild look about her, and she headed resolutely toward the school.

"I'll kill them all," she shouted. She was so focused on her mission that she wasn't even aware of the Green Lady's approach until she was pierced from behind by a wooden spear sharpened from the Lady's own arm. Voldemort began to struggle, but the unfamiliar poison was already spreading through her system. She didn't recognize this magic, and the last thought she had as her spirit abandoned her current body was that she'd better do more damage with her next Horcrux.

Sssss

It only took Snape two days to heal himself with a potion he insisted on making himself. There was no way he was going to trust something as important as nerve damage to anyone else, even Drakia. She was a little put out by this, but a good flight around the castle calmed her nerves.

Severus kept his plans regarding Drakia private. Outwardly he pretended to accept her true nature, but he knew that he would have to distance himself from her enough that she would leave him. He loved her; he had finally admitted that to himself. Love had limits though, and not being human was one of them. He knew better than to anger an ancient dragon though. That would be sheer stupidity.

One of the things that bothered him the most about her was that he had missed all the clues that pointed directly to her true nature. Him – Head of Slytherin! He supposed he'd been distracted, a rare problem for him. She had been very distracting though.

Severus had made his choice; regardless of his mother's meddling, his nature was Slytherin now. He had no problem giving in to the occasional uncharacteristic Gryffindor urges he felt after Drakia's healing, but that didn't stop him from using the skills he had painfully acquired from years of living as a spy. He was what he chose to be.

His plan was to postpone the wedding and immerse himself in his work, frustrating and alienating her. At the same time he would avoid fights and take the "high road" at every offense she found in him. Eventually he planned to introduce her to a powerful wizard who was her type, and invite the unfortunate stranger for drinks. He would then sneak a love potion into their drinks right before remembering an urgent engagement elsewhere. Then he just had to let nature take its course. It was a cynical plan, but he felt like she deserved it for deceiving him. She had lost his trust forever.

Sssss

The next Order meeting was predictably Harry-less. It was somber and had a funereal atmosphere. McGonagall called the meeting to order.

"I think we all know why we're here. We have to decide what to do about Harry."

Mad Eye's eye roamed around the room, judging and evaluating the members. "What's to decide? We can't have a Dark Wizard in the Order."

"True," she said, "but if we just kick him out there's the possibility of facing two Dark Lords. We couldn't possibly fight them both at once."

Lupin gasped, "surely you don't mean to keep him after what he did. I looked those spells up in the library. One of them required him to kill a thestral with his own hands." He shuddered. "I don't even want to talk about what another curse he used required. How is he not in Azkaban?"

McGonagall had asked this question a few times herself. "The idiots who make the rules have decided that since he constrained dark magic to dueling and fighting Voldemort he is excused from the consequences usually applied to dark wizards. They formally censured him, and then they let it go. If he uses dark magic again they may lock him up, but I really think they're scared of him."

Mad Eye spoke up. "You know says he plans to go after She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named by himself". Ron dropped his eyes and shook a bit at the memory of Ginny attacking her friends. Her Death-Eater mask had dropped near the end of the battle, so he couldn't pretend not to believe.

Mad Eye continued, "Potter says he has some plan cooked up that can't fail. He won't tell me anything about it though, and he's got some powerful anti-intrusion wards set up around his room."

Lupin asked why Mad Eye couldn't break the wards. Surely he'd faced tougher spells in his time?

"I could," Mad Eye said, "but if I did he'd probably suspect us immediately. We can't risk making an enemy of him right now."

Hermoine was furious. "What is this? Are we honestly plotting against Harry now? This is wrong, and so…," she searched for the right word. "un-Gryffindor." She crossed her arms and sat down.

Lupin was in the corner. It was near the new moon and he was slightly bothered by the proximity of so many humans. "What would you suggest we do then? We can't ally ourselves with a Dark Wizard. He's against the light now, which means he's against the Order and everything we stand against."

Hermoine wasn't done yet. "He's against everything _you_ stand against. He still stands against _Her_, and he still protects Hogwarts. As long as he does that, he has my wand by his side."

McGonagall was stunned. "You'd stand by a Dark Wizard?" She couldn't believe this conversation was even taking place.

Hermoine broke down in tears. This was the worst thing that had ever happened to her. Ron put his arms around her and just comforted her for a moment, oblivious to the uncomfortable atmosphere building up in the room.

She sniffled. "No, we won't stand by a Dark Wizard. We'll stand by our_ friend._ And we'll show him how damaging the dark magic is to him."

McGonagall looked into Ron's puffy, worn-out eyes and was tempted to reverse her position. She desperately wanted to bring Harry back from the pit he was racing toward, but she knew her duty.

"You can't stand with him and us at the same time, Ronald," she said sadly.

"I stand against _Voldemort_." He spoke the name deliberately. "Harry's not a Dark Wizard. You'll see. He just made some mistakes; Dumbledore had faith in him and so do I. I won't abandon him unless he hurts an innocent again. I just lost Ginny to Voldemort; I won't let him ruin Harry too."

"You're just going to let him get away with what he did to that thestral?" Lupin asked. His eyes glowed with a dangerous animal light. "I'll bet if it had been a human Harry killed you'd feel differently." He had been more sensitive about non-human rights recently.

"Oh, he won't be getting away with it; believe me. By the time I'm done with him he'll wish he'd never discovered dark magic. I said I'd stand by him. I never said he wouldn't get a good pounding."

Sssss

They weren't able to connect with Harry anytime soon. They both had their own lives and schedules, and every time they tried to contact him, he was unavailable. They would have suspected him of avoiding them, but he sent them occasional owls. The letters mostly described his classes, but he would often refer to a "plan" to get rid of Voldemort. He never did give them any clues as to what he was planning.

Harry knew he was working against time. He was glad now that Snape had worked him so hard in potions class; he was about to end the Dark Lord. This time the potion would work because it wasn't actually meant for Voldemort. Harry believed he had found a way to make himself exponentially stronger. There would be sacrifices of course, but Harry knew that power required sacrifice.

He was touched by Ron and Hermoine's refusal to shun him as the other Order members had obviously done. Lupin and McGonagall were forced to deal with him professionally, but the Headmistress managed to make her disapproval felt with every interaction they shared. Lupin was barely polite, and near the full moon he would just snarl and turn his back on Harry. The other teachers treated him with a fearful distance that he disliked immensely.

Drakia openly glared at him when she met him, and said, "someday, Potter. Someday we will meet outside the school. Then you die."

Harry knew why Ron and Hermoine were trying to reach him. They were Gryffindors after all. He was sure they wanted to confront him about his dark magic use. He had already decided what he wanted to tell the when the time came. He was sick of it, and after this one last dark act he planned on renouncing his newfound skills forever and only using light magic from that point on. The problem was, the potion he was using was so dark even Ron and Hermoine would probably never talk to him again if they knew about it.

Harry had to avoid them until he finished the potion. He'd never been good at fooling Hermoine, and he didn't feel like this was a good time to try. Once he was finished he could contact them, and even if they found out what he'd done he could honestly say he was done with foul deeds. He couldn't possibly hope to be the forthright Gryffindor he had once been, but he could attempt to regain some measure of his honor by killing Voldemort.

Harry took the blood-soaked wood and lowered it into the boiling cauldron using fireproof tongs. He had also placed inside the cauldron a phoenix feather that Fawkes had given him years ago, along with a drop of mercury and the hoof of the thestral he had killed. The feather would help him have immense healing powers, the mercury would give him a massive speed boost, and the hoof would give him the stamina of the thestral. Mercury was a dangerous element in any potion, and would shorten his life immensely, but he didn't really care. He had one goal – end Voldemort. Nothing else mattered in the end.

Sssss

Hagrid watched the tree-like humanoid moving sluggishly onto the Hogwarts grounds. He couldn't place the creature, which bothered him. Hadrid knew most creatures in the forbidden forest, or at least in the part near the school. The figure stopped a few yards into the school grounds and stood there, swaying.

Hagrid approached cautiously. Its head was down, and it seemed to be sleeping. The wind moved its branches slightly, and silver flowers dropped a few petals onto the grass.

"Errr hmmm…" Hagrid cleared his throat. No response.

"Um, hey. Tree-man. I don't think you should be here. You know the rules. We stay on our side, and you stay on yours." He waited, but no response. "Are you wounded? We can help you."

He reached out and pushed the tree-man's shoulder gently – well, gently for him.

"Huh?" the tree said, still drowsy. "Hey, Hagrid. Long time no see." He tried to sound cheery, but his voice was deep and slurred. He was so tired.

"Draco?" Hagrid asked. "What happened to you?" His dislike for the boy was bested by his honest good nature, and he wanted to help him.

"Green Lady took me. She made me her negotiator. I need to talk to McGonagall." Draco yawned. "I'll wait here."

McGonagall felt a deep pity for the boy. He was so bright; he might have amounted to something. Here he was though, turning into what seemed to be a forest creature.

"Why did you call me?" McGonagall asked.

He was slow in responding. "The Green Lady wants you to know that she killed one of She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's incarnations."

"She? So you knew about Ginny?"

Draco chuckled, a deep resounding sound. This leaves trembled when he laughed. McGonagall was troubled at his sheer _unhuman-ness_. "He took Ginny Weasley for a horcrux when he messed with her years ago. I saw him take her physically not long ago."

She was torn between horror and anger. The pity she had felt for Draco dissolved in a haze of anger. "You knew this and didn't do anything about it? You little snake!" She wanted to draw her wand, but she wasn't about to attack a spokesman for someone even the centaurs feared.

"I didn't know until Voldemort took physical form. Nothing to do about it; it was too late for her years ago."

McGonagall felt herself tearing up, and forced herself not to cry. Grief would have to wait until later. "What else did you need to tell me?" She wanted this over with.

"Green Lady killed She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named by impaling her on a spear she made from her own arm. " He paused for breath, and McGonagall wanted to shake him. He was so bloody useless!

"The Green Lady said She was vulnerable to poison. She felt it when she was poisoning Ginny." He saw McGonagall cringe and smiled. Draco had never thought of Voldemort as Ginny – not after the first night anyway. He knew it would bother McGonagall to think of Ginny as Voldemort's body though, and that pleased him.

"Get to the point, Draco," she hissed.

"That's it. She's vulnerable to poison." He held out a small vial made of hardened clay with some sort of unfired glaze to protect the inside from its contents.

"What's this then?" McGonagall eyed the vial suspiciously.

"It's the poison used to kill Ginny. The Green Lady thinks it could be useful again. She wants you to use it."

He turned without a parting farewell, and wandered back into the forest. The exchange had worn him out, and all he wanted to do was find a nice stream to nap by. He knew he wouldn't wake up even remotely human, but he was past caring about such things. He had his last small revenge against the Headmistress with his remarks about Ginny, and he was content to let nature claim him.

Sssss

Harry didn't have any faith in some poison supplied by a fey creature. He kept working on his potion every available minute, avoiding Ron and Hermoine in the meantime. It wasn't easy, but he continued to give them the slip even as they became more assertive in their attempts to reach him.

The potion took a month and a half to finish. Harry stood in his room looking at the nasty brown liquid bubbling in the flask. "I'm really sorry Drakia, but it has to be this way," he said before drinking the nasty stuff.

He was sick for a few hours, but then he began to feel the effects of the potion. It wasn't much yet, just a feeling of strength in his muscles – just a bit. It was a time-release potion, and it would take several months to reach its full strength. It was just his luck that Drakia wouldn't know who was sucking away her life-force.

Sssss

Drakia was having dinner with Lupin and Tonks in the local pub; Lupin had gotten over his distrust when she came out as a dragon. No need to fear what was out in the open, he supposed. They were enjoying Tonks' usual antics when Drakia felt nauseous. It wasn't enough to mention – just a bit of sour stomach that passed in a few minutes.

It came back the next day though, and it returned with more strength. She took an antacid and made it through her classes. She wished for the thousandth time that Severus was around. He'd been different since the fight. He was polite but distant. She didn't know if things would ever be the same between them.

When she saw the report in the Daily Prophet that Voldemort had been resurrected and then quickly killed after taking the body of a young reporter that worked for the Prophet itself, she wondered if he was getting better at incarnating himself but worse at surviving. The Prophet reported that the new Voldemort had seemed confused and angry. He had attacked furiously but in a clumsy manner, and he was quickly killed by a few wandering wizards.

McGonagall brought up the article at the next Order meeting. "What do you think? Is it just an instance of a bad incarnation?"

"Perhaps," Mad Eye said. "It's also possible that he's getting senile. No one in known history has ever split a soul so many times. Or, Dumbledore's potion may have had more of an effect than we thought. That Green Tart did say there was magic interfering with his healing abilities when she poisoned him."

"Then Harry might have been right," McGonagall said. "We might do better to keep killing him until he runs out of horcruxes."

Sssss

Snape had finally picked his victim for Drakia. Even though he was about to foist her off on another man, he had chosen carefully. After getting over the fact that she lied to him about something so important, he didn't have any bad feelings toward her. He actually cared about her, so he had chosen one of the older Weasley boys for her. Charlie Weasley was intimately acquainted with dragons, and Snape was sure he would treat her well. As much as he disliked the fast-breeding Weasly clan, he knew she would be happy with them.

He returned to his rooms with a triumphant feeling. If all went well, he would at least be able to keep her as a valuable ally. He would play the understanding lover and pass her off to the man who would hopefully be able to handle being married to a dragon. Not that he'd have much choice. The potion Snape was making was strong and long lasting. It was also incredibly illegal.

He went to visit Drakia in her quarters, but she didn't answer the door. He saw a light under the door, so he knew she was there. She was very conscious about leaving lights on when she was out. He knocked louder and heard shuffling.

She unlocked the door and blinked against the light. "What? I was sleeping."

It wasn't that late, and he noticed that she had bags under her eyes. "I'll come back later then. Should I bring a potion with me? You've looked better."

"Not a nice thing to tell a lady," she grumbled, "but yes, I could use a potion. I feel run down and I've got muscle aches all over. I don't want to go to the medical-wing unless I have to though. It's embarrassing."

Ssssss

Months passed like this. Harry became stronger as the potion drained Drakia, and Snape gave up his idea of Charlie Weasley as he watched her grow weaker. She eventually gave in and went to the medical ward, but Poppy couldn't do anything for her. Finally, she resigned her teaching position and made her way out to the forbidden forest. Snape walked her to the edge of the forest silently. He regretted ever meeting her as much as he regretted the impossibility of them ever being together. He was a practical man though, and her departure was best for him. He was losing an ally, but he was also losing a potential destructive enemy. If the love potion hadn't worked he would have been forced to break up with her, which could have very possibly ended up with deep fried Snape. He tried to avoid situations like that.

They stood at the edge of the forest, and he watched her sway in the breeze. "I have to go now," she said.

"I know," he replied, unsure of what to say.

"I think I'll feel better among the forest creatures. I never did like being surrounded by so many humans."

She kissed him goodbye and left. As he walked back he was surprised to find that the prevailing emotion he felt was not the sense of freedom he would have expected. He felt a deep sense of loss, but he couldn't have possibly stayed with her.

She died a few weeks later, although no one but Harry knew. He felt his own strength and magic stop increasing, and he knew the source had died. He felt guilty, but he shoved that feeling aside. He had made his decision and he needed to stick with it. He contacted Ron and Hermoine and made arrangements to meet with them the next Saturday at Hogwarts. It was time to leave this disgusting mess behind.

Voldemort's returns became more frequent, and with every incarnation he was noticeably weaker and less in control of his mind. He was still dangerous; he always managed to kill at least one person, and once he had laid waste to the Bertie Botts factory before he was killed. The Order calculated that he had only one horcrux left. All they had to do was kill him once more and then they could settle into a post-Voldemort world.

Harry worked harder and harder at learning to use his newfound strength and magic. Much of Drakia's magic was completely useless to humans, but he found that if he concentrated on the knowledge granted him he learned magic theories and practical applications he'd never considered before.

After Ron hit him in the jaw and Hermoine chewed him out for an hour, he made up with Ron and Hermoine. He had to say he'd avoid using dark magic again, but he hid the extent of his involvement with the dark arts from them. Lying to them was easier than he had expected it to be. Harry was having dinner with them when he unexpectedly felt a sense of disconnect from them.

"So what do you think Harry?" Hermoine asked.

He pulled himself out of his thoughts. "Huh? Sorry, I wasn't listening."

"Honestly," she huffed. "It's like you're not really here half the time."

He wasn't truly there half the time. He was beginning to feel the negative effects of the mercury, and estimated he had five years left to live. Some of that would probably be spent with brain damage. He was constantly bothered by what he had done to Drakia. Even with the potion he had to train the secrets he had learned from her. The thestral didn't bother him so much; it had been mortally wounded when he had found the beast anyway. He didn't like to think about the fact that he would have killed the first thestral he crossed paths with – healthy or not.

"Harry!" Hermoine rapped his knuckles with a fork.

"Ow," he said, rubbing his hand. "What was that for?"

"Pay attention! Ron wants Gryffindor colors for the wedding. I think it's bad luck to have bright red at a wedding. What do you think?"

"Um… why don't you compromise?" Honestly. How could they think this was important?

"Yes! Light red!" Hermoine clapped happily.

Ron looked upset. "Hermoine, they have a name for light red. It's called pink."

An argument commenced about the difference between light red and pink. Harry hated this lunch date right now. He knew those two had faced as many difficulties and horrorific circumstances as he had dealt with, at least in his adult life. And yet, they had a positive attitude. He would never escape the consequences of his actions, and he envied them their happiness. He didn't dare let his jealousy show though. They were the only real friends he had left, and he would do almost anything to keep them. Without them he would forget what it meant to be human, and he would probably end up just like Voldemort.

He would never have the life they led though. They had made choices in the face of evil that kept them innocent in a way. Harry was haunted by Drakia every time he used her magic, and he was haunted by Dumbledore every whenever he failed the old man. None of it mattered though; he would fulfill his destiny.

He knew that Voldemort was growing weaker, and there had been no real reason to kill Drakia. That was the worst of it. Her death had probably been meaningless. Still though, he wanted to kill Voldemort's final incarnation himself. He just hoped someone else didn't beat him to it.

Snape missed Drakia, but not enough to really disrupt his life. He was patiently waiting for the next semester; he was sure Harry would be replaced after the stunts he'd pulled. He would be right there when the time came. Surely McGonagall couldn't refuse him the position after all he'd done for the school and the wizarding world in general. One thing remained to seal the deal; he wanted to be the one to kill Voldemort.

He could foresee a possible impediment to his plan. He wondered if Voldemort was saving his best horcrux for last. That would be just like the Dark Lord; he had an absolute compulsion to hide things. If he was saving the best for last there could be problems. He could only hope the current trend continued.

Sssss

They both got their chance a couple of months later. Severus was teaching second year potions when a student rushed into his class. "Professor Snape," he said excitedly, "Voldemort is in Hogsmeade. Everyone cleared out, but he's threatening to head over here and kill everyone!"

"And how exactly do you know what is going on in Hogsmeade in the middle of a school-day?" Snape asked calmly.

He didn't answer. Snape closed his book, wrote an assignment on the board that made every student groan for its severity, and left the castle. He met some of the other teachers outside heading towards the closest apparition point outside the castle. They walked silently beside each other, and when they were able to apparate they did so.

Hogsmeade was silent, something Harry had never seen. Severus was old enough to have seen a quiet Hogsmeade once, but he had been one of the Death-Eaters besieging the place at the time. It was obvious where the disturbance was coming from, because they could hear shouting coming from the south. Harry and Snape rushed to Madam Murry's Magic Muffin's. A group of aurors stood outside the store, waiting for Voldemort to make his move.

Voldemort was yelling curses in a voice that sounded somehow small and viscous at the same time. Everyone waited in suspense for him to show himself.

Mad Eye was the first to speak. "Anyone have any info on his current form?"

Saminal Sundry, one of the new aurors spoke up. "It all happened so fast the witnesses were gone before we got here. We learned from a second hand witness about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's arrival. He heard people yelling that He-Who-Must-Not-Be Named was in the muffin shop. He ran to the auror station, but he never actually saw the old wizard himself."

Harry didn't like the sound of this. "So we don't even know for sure it's Voldemort in here?"

Most of the aurors cringed at his name, and Harry just rolled his eyes. "For crying out loud people! He's not nearly as powerful as he used to be. I think we can finally say his name out loud."

"That's what you think, Potter!" he heard shrieked from a window.

He saw a head appear over the window, and Voldemort yelled, "Avada Kedava." A bright light shot out of the window and hit Mad Eye in the chest. Everyone gasped, horrified by the old auror's fate. Mad Eye was knocked backward, but he kept his feet. He looked in astonishment at a foot wide burn on his chest. It didn't even hurt much. He patted his smoldering shirt and looked in wonder at the muffin shop.

Voldemort leaped out of the window and landed on the pavement, wand in hand. He glared at Mad Eye. The aurors were all shocked at Voldemort's new form, a badly deformed midget.

"What the hell?" Voldemort screeched. "My spell didn't work! What the bloody-thestral humping, house elf, crotch crabs hell?"

Everyone burst out laughing. They just couldn't help it. He was once arguably the most powerful mage in the world, and now he was reduced to a disfigured shell of himself.

When Tonks could straighten up, she wiped the tears from her eyes and calmed herself enough to talk. "What happened, Voldemort? You run out of horcrux victims? Seriously, this is sad."

Snickers surrounded them. Voldemort shook with fury. "I had some problems. This was supposed to be the best one yet – a twenty foot tall giant with green skin. Obviously something didn't work right."

Full blown laughter surrounded them again. "You would have wet your pants with fear!" Voldemort screeched, and launched himself at Harry physically. Harry was too busy laughing to notice the pint-sized wizard barreling toward him. Voldemort had lost none of his speed, and the next thing Harry knew everything had gone black around him as the hood of his robe was pulled over his head. Teeth bit into his arm, and small fists pulled his hair viscously. Voldemort was like a rabid monkey.

"Get him off!" Harry screamed. "Get him off!" He swung around blindly, but Voldemort was solidly attached and wasn't letting go. He heard more laughing, and he hoped one of the aurors could pull himself together enough to rescue him from the tiny demon.

"Off you go," Tonks yelled, pulling the wizard off Harry and throwing Voldemort aside. Harry heard the crunch that only breaking bone makes, and then he heard aurors cheering. He pulled his robe down and couldn't believe he was actually seeing the scene before him. Voldemort lay at the bottom of the wall, slouched and pale. His head was cracked open and his brains garishly decorated the wall and pavement.

Everyone trained their wands on Voldemort while Mad Eye went to check on him. He checked his pulse and said, "Yep, he's dead. Just to be sure though…"

He used Voldemort's wand to poke around inside the massive crack in his skull. "There," he said. "That settles it. He's dead."

They removed the body and people went about their business. Harry returned to the school, but instead of returning to his classroom he went to his quarters. His dazed mind only registered one simple yet soul-destroying fact. All of the dark magic he had wrecked his soul to learn had been pointless. Tonks had killed Voldemort without using a single spell.

As Snape expected, Harry was not offered a contract renewal, but the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher went to Tonks. He fumed about this to McGonagall, but she wouldn't budge.

Harry was never the same again. He took a job at the same school that Snape's sister taught at, but his heart just wasn't in it after the battle. He took to drinking and lost his job. The last anyone ever heard from him was a sighting in France. Ron and Hermoine had finally decided on Paris as their honeymoon spot, and they found Harry hitchhiking. He had a beard and didn't smell well.

They picked him up and drove him out of the city. "Harry," Hermoine asked, "what are you doing out here? Everyone's worried about you."

"By everyone I assume you mean you and Ron." Harry said.

"That's not true mate," Ron said sadly. "You have friends."

"What are you doing out here?" Hermoine asked. She didn't like when people ignored her questions.

"Looking for redemption," he said as he opened the car door. "but I don't think I'll find it." He walked away, and they never saw him again.


End file.
